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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27636788">Beyond the Embers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantswarrior/pseuds/pantswarrior'>pantswarrior</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Cultists' Cycle [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Vagrant Story</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, Drama, M/M, Magic, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Pre-Canon, Religion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:33:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>119,280</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27636788</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantswarrior/pseuds/pantswarrior</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sydney renounced his previous life when he dedicated himself to the service of the gods - yet a chance meeting which spirals into something more rekindles his questions about the conflict between fate and free will, just how much he sacrificed, and how much more may be required.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sydney Losstarot/John Hardin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Cultists' Cycle [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/3668</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/59941">Burning Bridges</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantswarrior/pseuds/pantswarrior">pantswarrior</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a companion piece, as noted, to one of the first fics I was truly proud of, and twenty years later, somehow still am. It is not a straight rewrite, but a remix - the same story, but told from the perspective of Sydney rather than Hardin... which as it turns out, makes it about entirely different things.</p><p>I kind of recommend reading Burning Bridges before this one, because the reason I wrote that from Hardin's perspective is because he's the character who understands the least, and therefore his perspective held (or so I thought) the most surprises and character engagement. Sydney is the one with the answers, right? ...Then for some reason I got the idea of writing this remix, and actually no. No, Sydney knows all about the Dark, he's open and unashamed about his preferences, he can hear what Hardin is thinking if he wants to, and he has plenty of secrets he's keeping that are still confusing Hardin at the end - but he has his own set of questions that he's looking for answers to. So hopefully it will hold up on its own as well.</p><p>Since the original fic was titled after a Pink Floyd song, it seemed serendipitous when I was listening to another album while writing the last chapter of this, still lacking a title, and heard the line "Looking beyond the embers of bridges glowing behind us". If that's not a sign, I don't know what is.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first vision was the same, the one that came so often when he slept. For the gods, time moved differently, and things from the past arose alongside those from the future, at times out of place. A warrior, face unseen, his movements firm and well-trained as his physique. The dome of the great cathedral, shattered. The Lady and her dance, always with a sword that seemed so sharply in focus. A man turned demon, unaware, for the Dark had consumed him upon his very summons. Himself, as a child; a man - perhaps his father? - placing a weary hand upon his head. The gods, gathering what little remained of their most precious creation, for humanity could not withstand what they now must do.</p><p>The second vision came afterwards, standing at the forest's edge with his face upturned to the sky, letting the cold rain wake him and wash away the trails of his tears. It was, as usual, announced by the soft jingling of the ornaments she wore.</p><p>The Lady had visited him more often of late. For some purpose, he was certain, but that purpose was not so clear. His eyes remained closed, waiting.</p><p>
  <i>Soon.</i>
</p><p>"Yes, Lady," he replied. "I know."</p><p>
  <i>Do you...?</i>
</p><p>As always, the words were not spoken aloud, but in his mind, and not even truly words. One previously mortal soul to another, from times long past; if she had spoken aloud, she would speak a dead language in which he was practiced, but not fluent. Even so, his mind could hear the tease in those words, and he lowered his head, opening his eyes to look upon her. Adorned in meager gold and sheer silks, flame-touched even in the darkness of a chill, rainy night.</p><p>She paused, waiting for a moment. <i>You could ask.</i></p><p>"I would receive no answer." In spite of his prior distress, Sydney found a slight smile creeping across his lips. "Like the gods, if you would have me understand, you would explain."</p><p>She smiled more fondly in return. They were, in a very real sense, two of a kind. <i>Like the gods, I would have you come to understanding on your own. You are still a man. You are still allowed to choose.</i></p><p>"Is that so..." Some of the visions he'd seen could be averted, he had been told that much. But after years of these dreams, with the memory of the skies screaming and the sea afire so close at hand, he was still not so sure what difference he was to make, even with the help of the talents the gods had granted him.</p><p><i>It is.</i> She approached him, untroubled by the rain that did not touch her, and despite his dubious reply, she continued to smile kindly. <i>Little rabbit, the gods have more for you in this life than dreams.</i></p><p>It was a nickname she'd given him in his youth, when the choice had first been offered. When he'd still thought it was truly a choice, and initially chosen wrongly. "I am aware, Lady. The brethren will wake soon, and in spite of the weather, all are quite eager to return to our city." He reached up to flick a lock of wet hair away from his face with a careful, sardonic motion of the metal claws that long ago had replaced his fingers. "And quite eager for the ritual fires and the warmth of spring, I dare say."</p><p><i>Do not dare say you envy me.</i> </p><p>The playful comment bordered on sacrilege, but she was no conventional priestess, and he was no conventional priest, and again he could not help but smile slightly. "I do not. ...Though I may muse on what end the gods have deigned to bestow upon me," he acknowledged, growing somber once more.</p><p><i>As I said, there is still much more for you in this life before the visions you have seen draw near.</i> Perhaps it was his imagination, but her smile had the edge of a slight smirk as she turned away, fading. <i>Soon.</i></p><p>Sydney let his eyes drift after her as she disappeared into the darkness of the valley beyond, gently lightening into shapes and shadows as the sun began to rise somewhere behind the clouds. Again, he did not understand why she had come. Perhaps only to offer some companionship. Yet she had implied that <em>something</em> was coming, and "soon".</p><p>"Hmm..." Whatever it was, there was little he could do about it. It would come on its own time, or hers, or that of the gods. And the way she had spoken, it seemed she spoke of something less severe than wrath and destruction.</p><p>But then again, given that hint of a smirk upon her lips, Sydney had the impression that whatever was about to happen, it would not be so straightforward as to be simple, pleasant, joyful. He had known her nearly his whole life, and he recognized the look of mischief.</p><p>-----</p><p>Travel through the mountains in the late winter, as the thaw turned soil to mud, while snow had only barely turned yet to rain, was slow and unpleasant under the best of circumstances. Though those following Sydney were of able body, the elderly and those with small children secreted elsewhere for safety's sake, they preferred not to travel the main roads or even well-known paths except where they must, lest the king's men or the cardinal's catch word. Some of the routes they took were less kind to the horses and the wheels of their provisioning cart than others.</p><p>With that in mind, it was expected that it might take the better part of the day to reach the cave that sometimes served as shelter when they passed this way. Between the rain having become a storm during the early afternoon, and circling back not much later to avoid crossing paths with a small dispatch of armed men wearing the royal crest - hunting something or someone, from what a scout with a particular talent could tell, but not the brethren of Müllenkamp this time - it was well into a very dark dusk before the advance scouts returned again, this time reporting that the cave was not entirely vacant.</p><p>"I could only confirm one," Padric told Sydney. "We did not get close, but we both saw someone slip back inside the mouth of the cave as we approached."</p><p>"He might've heard us," Duncan admitted. "Tho' we were bein' mighty careful. May be expectin' us, tryin' an ambush. No camp set up nearby, no fire lit inside. Not someone seekin' shelter."</p><p>Sydney considered. Given that the king's men had been spotted nearby, it was a possibility. Yet usually he was given some sort of sign if something was to go poorly. Given the tenor of Müllenkamp's visit early that morning, when she had suggested something was about to happen, he didn't think she was warning him of an upcoming skirmish...</p><p>But one could never be too careful. Even a prophet could only see what glimpses of the future the gods offered him, and it was his duty to keep their children safe. "Go ahead and investigate more thoroughly," he told them. "Padric, your talent should be able to tell you easily enough if it is more than one man, if you can approach closely enough, and discern their intentions."</p><p>"An' if they be ill, mine should help keep 'em occupied in there, no matter how many they number," Duncan added, shooting a grin up to his taller partner, who returned it.</p><p>"As always," Sydney agreed. The two of them were his preferred advance scouts under most circumstances, skilled at fighting and well-learned in the talents the Dark had granted them. "The rest of us will be ready and close at hand if needed." Others among the brethren, listening in to the report from the two scouts, nodded and murmured affirmation, retrieving weapons from the wagon for those who could fight, making room in the back for those who could not.</p><p>It proved unnecessary, however; after only a few tense minutes, Sydney received word from Padric. "Only a lone man," he informed his remaining followers. "Of unknown allegiance, but there appears to be no imminent danger. We shall see if it is safe to remain overnight."</p><p>"Gods will it," someone spoke up, barely audible over the noise of the pouring rain on the rocks and the thunder, and Sydney smiled at the murmurs of agreement. All of them, including himself, could use rest and warmth.</p><p>Padric and Duncan were within sight now, the occasional flash of lightning illuminating a single man secured between them. While they were still a short distance off, Duncan loosed his grip, leaving Padric to hang back from the brethren with their captive while he came to report the encounter. "He had it in 'im to fight," he said, "but no real trouble. Seems t' be alone, according to Padric... at least for now."</p><p>Sydney nodded. Now that the intruder had been brought out into the open, where Sydney could see him plainly and focus the Dark, he could sense the man's smoldering anger - but more so his terror, his bewilderment. This man had not come with the intent to harm, or at least not to harm <em>them</em>. In fact, Sydney thought he was beginning to understand something. "Be cautious," he told those closest to himself and Duncan, "but go ahead. Ready yourselves to shelter for the night. I will question our visitor."</p><p>An inaccurate way of putting it, to be certain. As he followed Duncan back to where Padric still gripped the man's arms behind his back, Sydney listened to the whispers of the Dark and the thoughts they carried, the man's frantic unspoken murmurings. Physically, Sydney could see nothing remarkable about him. His clothes were little more than rags, filthy from having been worn too long and traveled too far in the unpleasant weather. The man himself was much the same, too thin, his hair unkempt and his face unshaven; likely the rain had washed the dirt of many roads from his skin. But despite his pitiable state, he had lifted his head to look about at his captors, and at Sydney as he approached. </p><p>
  <i>Why? Why? Not soldiers, men, women... peasants... except that one. That one... no peasant. She looks much too graceful. ...I... wonder what I would see beneath that cloak...</i>
</p><p>Sydney couldn't help but smirk a bit as he raised a hand to push back his cowl. It was far from the first time his mannerisms had left someone a bit confused, and from what he was sensing...</p><p>...Rage, yes, muddled by confusion over how they had managed to take him, a moment of embarrassment when the man realized Sydney was no woman. But much deeper were the fear and the misery. The terrible loneliness of having been so long in solitude... And something else - something Sydney could not pin down at once. This stranger, ragged and underfed and unshaven, could have been any number of the others who had stumbled upon them in unfortunate circumstances. Refugees, beggars, madmen. But the way he held his head up, the way he dared to meet Sydney's eyes...</p><p>Sydney was no longer smirking, and his decision was not difficult to make. "Take him inside," he instructed Padric and Duncan. "He'll dine with us tonight."</p><p>Duncan was surprised - they had, after all, been attacked. Padric was not; likely he, a fellow heartseer, had sensed much the same as Sydney had, and let go readily. "As you wish, Sydney."</p><p>"He's around the same size as Aryn. See if he has a spare shirt and trousers to lend him," Sydney suggested as the man warily straightened. "He can't go on wearing those rags he's in now, soaked through or no."</p><p>A burst of indignation from the man - <i>I need no one's charity</i> - was smothered quickly by shame - <i>...I have little choice.</i> Aloud, he said nothing, but merely watched them, uncertain. Sydney found this rather intriguing.</p><p>"Not one of the cardinal's, then?" Duncan confirmed.</p><p>"Certainly not." The idea was almost laughable. Almost. The man's bearing, deep down, seemed noble enough that he could have been a knight. But given the thoughts and memories strewn recklessly about in his fear - glimpses of a flickering torch, stone walls, shame and betrayal as he was pushed to the ground, arms wrestled behind his back - he was not capable of hiding such loyalties as the Crimson Blades demanded. "Even if I could not tell if it were so, I would think they've learned their lesson by now."</p><p>"Aye, they should've at that," Duncan chuckled.</p><p>"So we are safe?"</p><p>"Yes, for the time being," Sydney affirmed. "Take him to join the others now, and I will set a ward."</p><p>The king's men were, after all, hunting <em>someone</em> in the vicinity - even if it was the stranger they sought, they would likely be more than pleased to stumble instead across the Müllenkamp sect. Not so dedicated to that particular hunt as the cardinal's men, but with the king's pious leanings, it made little difference. For the time being, the stranger and the brethren seemingly wanted the same - a night of rest and safety from those who would see them in chains, or worse.</p><p>Sydney pondered vaguely, as he etched the sigil into the earth at the mouth of the cave, what this man might have done that would make the king's men pursue him into the mountains. The impression Sydney had gotten was not one of violence, or madness, or selfishness. The overwhelming sensation was desperation. Perhaps he would be one of those who stayed.</p><p>Perhaps that was why, when he met Sydney's eyes, Sydney had felt something beyond the man's surface thoughts and emotions. Almost a sense of familiarity, though he did not think they had ever met - perhaps the lightest touch of prophecy, a hint of what was to come. Perhaps they were to <em>become</em> familiar.</p><p>-----</p><p>If it was to be, or even if not, Sydney was curious regardless about the man who was sharing their meal and their lodging for the moment. The name was Hardin; he heard that much during dinner, in the conversations before the cookfires. By that time, Hardin already looked much improved, having bathed, shaved, and discarded his rags in favor of proper clothing. Again, Sydney pondered his demeanor. He had had little reason to consider matters of mortal nobility since becoming the high priest of a "heretic cult", but he thought he recalled mention of a minor lord in the northern regions - perhaps not far from the mountains through which they traveled, in fact - with the name of Hardin. Likely not one and the same, this man was too young to have been known so long past as that fragment of dubious memory, but perhaps a son? Whether his memory was correct or not, this Hardin was beginning to look the part.</p><p>In appearance, at the least. During dinner, his wariness persisted, fairly radiating unease as he looked over his temporary companions. Often his eyes strayed to Sydney himself, before catching himself and lowering them to his meal. Presumably he had learned of the nature of Müllenkamp. </p><p>...It was of course possible that he had already known. Although he was clearly not of the king's men or the cardinal's, he might have been sent by them, as eyes and ears, his initial state all for show. Loyalty was not his motivation, that much was certain, but desperation might cause a man to be blackmailed, coerced...</p><p>If so, Sydney needed to know. And if not, if their meeting was naught but chance, it would hardly do to have him remain so fearful. When Sydney happened across Padric after the meal, seeing as he and Hardin seemed to have made amends after their initial rough meeting, he asked Padric to pass along a minor request.</p><p>Of course Hardin complied regardless of his wariness, particularly as the rain had ceased. He stepped outside the mouth of the cave, taking a breath of the crisp air before turning to see Sydney waiting. "You wanted to see me, sir?"</p><p><i>To think cold air could still feel so good...</i> Sydney heard the stray thought, and he nodded as the pieces began to fall into place. All the small fragments of emotion and memory swirling close to the surface, the factors that colored his soul, making him the man he was at present - and Sydney's intention was to dig deeper. The Dark, as always, willingly obliged.</p><p>"John Hardin," he murmured. "Twenty-four years of age. You prefer to be called Hardin, correct?" It was not truly a question. "No one has called you by your first name for such a long time, you would not even recognize it as your own." No, that wasn't right. "No one except one person... and those memories are not ones you wish to be reminded of."</p><p>Hardin simply stared, though Sydney heard the sharp cry of pain voiced by his very spirit. Hardin had been wounded, deeply wounded, and the Dark drew that pain forth, laying it out for Sydney to examine. A stately manor, a courtyard with headstones. Newly carved headstones, a youth and a small child sitting before them. "Your parents died many years ago, when the plague came," Sydney continued, "and you were left to care for Philip on your own." A luxurious bed, much too big for the boy who lay upon it, struggling to breathe. Nights spent awake, sitting in the chair beside. "He was all you had left, and you raised  him as well as you could with the assistance of the servants and fortune your parents had left behind." </p><p>Disrepair, dust, fine hallways empty. "But money runs out, and eventually the servants left, seeking better employ." The gleaming blade of a fine heirloom sword. "When you grew to manhood, you became a member of the PeaceGuard. It didn't pay so much, but it was enough to keep a roof over Philip's head, and food on his plate." ...Swords. So many swords, from the king's own forges - but by necessity, unmarked. Even a few would have fetched a small fortune. "But then, when he was only eleven years old..."</p><p>Transfixed by what the Dark was showing him, Sydney barely heard Hardin's warning growl as he stepped back. "...Stop it."</p><p>"You didn't have much of a choice, did you, Hardin?" Days of refusal, guilt, listening to those in his unit who had fewer moral conflicts. Seeing the coin they flashed about. Seeing Philip wasting away, as they had to ration the elixir that eased his pain. "You could watch him die, or you could do a little selling on the side."</p><p>"It's nothing I want to talk about."</p><p>Or that he'd wanted to do, but Hardin had done it. Dark meetings with darker figures. Then - a cloak drawn back to reveal the same insignia he wore. "...And when they found out about it, you had the same kind of choice - none whatsoever." Sitting alone before the inquisitors, hands bound, shaking, clenched into fists. Guilt compounded upon guilt compounded upon guilt. Betrayal upon betrayal. The Dark danced amidst the regret and sorrow that permeated Hardin's being.</p><p>"Stop it, damn you!" </p><p>Perhaps it was the Dark once more, its love for bloodshed over even its love for pain, that broke the flow of memory; Sydney abruptly noticed that Hardin's hand was on the sword at his waist. After a long moment, Hardin pulled it away. "Stop your unholy scrying!" he demanded again. "You don't need to know any of this, and you certainly don't need to repeat it to me!"</p><p>...Was it his own fascination, or the Dark's, or merely the depths of Hardin's pain, that Sydney had momentarily lost himself in it? Regardless, he held up his hands, obliging. "No, likely I do not need to know it. But yet, I do know it, Hardin. Everything you have seen and done was laid out before me the instant I saw you. Thus is the power that the Dark has granted me."</p><p>"So that makes it acceptable to prick the old wounds and watch me bleed again, does it?"</p><p>It did not, of course. His intention had been only to discern the truth of Hardin's arrival. But now the threads had been woven together - now he had seen what had made a young lord turn sellsword turn smuggler, what had sent him from a family manor and beloved brother to the solitude of the king's dungeon. Behind the angry eyes of the tall, seemingly intimidating stranger who stood before him, nearly drawing his sword only moments ago, Sydney could see gentleness, despair, a determined spirit crushed and nearly buried - but despite all odds, still ablaze.</p><p>Perhaps that was what he had been sensing, in that moment of recognition. A soul of the kind so greatly treasured by the gods he served. A soul in need of comfort and reclamation.</p><p>Regardless, he had allowed himself to scrye too deeply, unnecessarily. "You've suffered much," he said. "I could tell from the first moment. It is not my intent that you suffer more." </p><p>"Then... then..."</p><p>It had been a long, long time since Hardin had spoken to anyone, longer since he had spoken of such weighty matters. There were many among the brethren like him, who had once been lost even to themselves, and Sydney acted as he might to one of them, lifting a hand to offer a comforting touch. Hardin was not one of them, of course, and flinched at the feel of cold metal, but did not entirely shy away. <i>...When... when was the last time...?</i></p><p>Much too long since he had been touched gently, shown kindness, no doubt. "Peace, Hardin," he murmured. "I know you now. I am not your enemy."</p><p>
  <i>I... shouldn't believe him. Yet, somehow...</i>
</p><p>Seeing him calmed, Sydney allowed his touch to linger a bit longer. It was not a chore, of course - such sadness he had seen, and if he could ease it, he would. "There is much pain in the world, Hardin - pain much like yours. The gods weep for us all..."</p><p>As he drew his hand back, Hardin seemed to recall himself somewhat, his expression turning bitter. "If indeed the gods exist, they should do more than weep." He stopped abruptly with the last word, his soul reminding him to whom he was speaking ill of the gods.</p><p>But it was to Sydney, and Sydney understood all too well. Though he had grown with his faith, it was misunderstood and misrepresented by outsiders - and nowadays it was not uncommon for even those whose faith had once been strong to find they had lost it.</p><p>"They will." Sensing Hardin's weariness, far surpassing merely the mortal body, Sydney sat down, and motioned for Hardin to join him. "The end of the age is nigh," he began, as Hardin settled himself, "but it is not my way to demand a man choose salvation or condemnation in a moment's time, nor do I discard those who do not believe as I and the brethren. I would ask you, though, if you would stay with us for a few days' time. Both body and spirit have been weakened by your imprisonment, and you would be wise to give them a chance to regain their strength. We can keep you safe for a time, if you like. And at any time, if you wish to leave, it would be your choice. Perhaps, though, you will find our fellowship to be pleasant."</p><p>"So far I have." The response came as a slight surprise to Sydney, considering how tense the man had been at dinner. "And I owe you much gratitude for what you've done already."</p><p>"There is no gratitude necessary for giving a man what he needs," Sydney assured him. "We shall make you comfortable tonight also - though it may be necessary to share a bedroll or blanket." Given the way Hardin had reacted at the sight of him, and the fact that the followers of Müllenkamp were not so prudish as the believers of some faiths... "With you having been alone so long, perhaps that would be preferable to you." </p><p><i>He noticed.</i> The way Hardin turned his face away suddenly did absolutely nothing to hide his embarrassment. "Thank you, but I... I think I have become so accustomed to sleeping alone that I'd prefer to keep doing so. I've gone this long with no blanket, after all."</p><p>"As you wish..." Going without a blanket yet again was not necessary, however. "But you are welcome to mine."</p><p>Hardin turned back to him in surprise, his soul asking the questions he dared not voice. <i>Is he offering to... Is he a lover of men? ...Did he think I genuinely wanted to...</i> Hardin averted his face again, quickly.</p><p>Hmm. So Hardin did hold certain more conventional beliefs, if he was so flustered by the idea. Yet the idea <em>had</em> occurred to him, and Sydney had offered nothing of the sort. "The weather grows warmer as spring approaches, and I have a thicker cloak than the other brethren," he explained. "My followers insisted. I have no need of a blanket tonight." Not to mention - and he would not, lest he fluster Hardin further - several of the brethren were quite willing to share their blankets with Sydney.</p><p>"Oh. Then... thank you." His soul rebuked him - <i>He has done so much for me already, and all I can say to him is 'thank you'?</i> "Lord Sydney..."</p><p>That was an awkward way to begin, and Sydney chuckled. "You are not even a follower of mine, much less a servant. Just Sydney, please."</p><p>"Sydney, then." Hardin paused. <i>Even so, how can I phrase it, to express how much this... wait.</i> "...If you can read my heart, you know that the idea frightens me, but..."</p><p>A quick learner. Sydney was moderately impressed by how swiftly he had adapted to something he clearly viewed as impossible, and then unnerving. "Yes, Hardin. I know. And you are welcome."</p><p>With that assurance, Hardin relaxed slightly, his thoughts drifting off to less urgent tangents. <i>I don't know how or why, but after only this brief talk, even after he looked into my mind... I think he's someone I could trust. Certainly he's charming, the abilities he claims are real, that would be enough to draw people to follow him - but there is more than his power and his charm. He's young, I would think younger than I, but speaks with wisdom, grace... How did he come to this?</i></p><p>A quick learner, but also quick to forget when his guard was down. "Perhaps someday," Sydney answered his unspoken question, and stood. "It is late, and you are tired. Doubtless the brethren have all retired by now, as we have come far, and we set out again tomorrow before mid-day. Again, you're welcome to join us."</p><p>There was a moment of startled embarrassment at the initial reminder, but Hardin recovered nearly as fast. "I just may agree to that," was all he said aloud as he also stood to follow Sydney back inside to where the brethren sheltered. Again, Sydney was somewhat impressed.</p><p>Sydney had spoken truly when he offered his own blankets. He could manage with his cloak, and would not ask one of his brethren to go without... and of course, after having given his own over to Hardin, who humbly accepted, Sydney could himself see who might be interested in sharing blankets that night. </p><p>But as he stepped back to the edge of the low firelight, watching his brethren settle themselves as well as they could manage on the hard earth, he found he was not in the mood. Perhaps it was only that they had a stranger among them, who did not understand their ways...</p><p>Though no longer was Hardin a stranger, precisely. Sydney watched him settle as well, turning to find the most comfortable position on the uneven floor. He hardly resembled the unknown, ragged man that Padric and Duncan had dragged out into the rain only a few hours past, physically or... otherwise. Sydney knew <em>him</em> now, what was in his heart. And if it seemed that he fit in naturally among the brethren as they drifted off to slumber, that was not unusual. He was not the first who had come to Müllenkamp bereft of purpose or hope. Often they decided after a time to stay on, though Sydney was careful not to manipulate such a person for his own benefit. If they desired to live in the shadow of the Dark and serve the gods, it must be their own choice.</p><p>...Hmm, yes, choice. Although encountering a stranger in one of their usual shelters was not unheard of, Sydney had nearly forgotten about the visit that morning from the Lady, and her mysterious words. Something was to happen soon, and not the destruction he had seen in his dreams. Something that he, allegedly, was permitted to choose.</p><p>He wondered for a moment, but then shook his head, turning away to go and find his own solitary spot for the night. Hardin was simply another man who had fallen under the burdens placed upon him by the world, such a man who might opt to remain with them. If it did so happen that John Hardin was to play some part in whatever was coming "soon" that was "more than dreams", it would still be <em>his</em> choice to make. Sydney was insistent that it must be so. </p><p>Perhaps because, despite having embraced the destiny that awaited him, despite what Müllenkamp had told him, he had never quite been certain that he had been given a choice himself.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The brethren were accustomed to a life of wandering, staying ahead of those who would persecute them as heretics, or worse. The majority were up at dawn, passing around a quick breakfast and making the preparations to leave. Given what he now knew of Hardin's character, Sydney was unsurprised to find the man helping to dismantle and cover the cookfires, and that he simply thanked one of the brethren, telling her it was no matter and that he was grateful for it, when she apologized that they had no more than dried fruits for the morning meal. He caught the thought as Hardin took a bite; <i>Has anything ever tasted so sweet? "Only" fruit, indeed - I could go years with naught else.</i></p><p>Sydney had to smile slightly. At least they had been of some help to Hardin already, whatever he might decide.</p><p>He was also unsurprised shortly afterwards, when Hardin approached and offered his blankets, neatly rolled and bound. "Again, you have my thanks."</p><p>"And again I say it is not necessary," Sydney reminded him, and raised an eyebrow curiously. "Does this mean you intend to go your own way?"</p><p>"I..." Sydney already knew the answer to the question, but Hardin was self-conscious about it, clearly. "...If your offer is still open, I would like to come along. Perhaps I can repay your kindness in labor."</p><p>"It is," Sydney affirmed. "Though I must tell you, there is no debt to be repaid."</p><p><i>It was good, being with them. ...And I have nowhere else to go, nothing else to do.</i> "Even so."</p><p>"In that case, keep the blankets for yourself."</p><p>Hardin's eyes widened slightly. "But..."</p><p>"As I said, I have no need." Sydney smirked slightly. "If you are so insistent upon offering your labor, then you might save me the trouble of packing and unpacking them each night."</p><p>Not the answer Hardin had expected; an incredulous sound escaped his throat, perhaps just shy of a chuckle. "I see. You're a shrewd negotiater."</p><p>"Quite." Sydney couldn't resist teasing him a bit more. "Are you surprised?"</p><p>"As you mention it, no." <i>He somehow convinced me to come with him and his band of sorcerers, after all. ...Though maybe it's only that I have missed the company of others just that badly.</i></p><p>He had just gotten Hardin to nearly laugh. Sydney was not going to let him slip back into melancholy. "Then go on, load them onto the cart. We will be setting out as soon as we are packed."</p><p>Hardin nodded, hefting the bundle in his arms and turning to go. "Indeed. I will not slow you down."</p><p>Sydney was in fact slightly concerned about that. Though Hardin had obviously once been a soldier, the months (years? the time blurred together in Hardin's memory, and so Sydney could not be sure either without further investigation) he had spent in prison before making his escape had left him weak and withered. His inner core of determination had sustained him initially; after finding he no longer had a brother to protect, only the instinct to survive had kept him on his feet.</p><p>But again Hardin said nothing of his weariness, though as the day wore on, he spoke only sparingly to Padric and Duncan as they tried to engage him in their conversations. The two seemed to be taking him under their wing, and although he was saving his breath for the walking, Hardin was content simply to listen to the idle, good-natured conversations taking place around him. Like the meager breakfast, it was far better than the language he'd grown accustomed to, and fatigue was a small price to pay for the freedom to walk where he wished. </p><p>He would be fine. Sydney turned his thoughts to other matters.</p><p>With each passing day, Hardin's recovery continued. Though he mostly kept to himself, he fit in well enough among the brethren, more of whom were becoming accustomed to his presence as he offered to assist where he could. He was regaining some strength, with plain but regular meals. Padric seemed to be teaching him some basic protective exercises, Sydney noted, because Hardin was no longer casting his thoughts in every direction as he had when they first met.</p><p>And it was hardly surprising that Padric might do so, for Hardin's continued wariness of the Dark was obvious. Sydney walked at the front of their entourage during the day, but sometimes in the evenings as they sat around the fires, he spotted Hardin among the others, helping with chores or simply conversing. At times, he seemed perfectly at ease. At others...</p><p>Sydney found Hardin looking at him rather often. To someone with Sydney's particular talent, the uneasiness was clear, though it did not show in Hardin's face. Sydney vaguely wondered just how much he had been told of who they were, and what Sydney himself was - but it didn't matter. He was what he was, and uneasiness was a far less offensive response than he often faced. </p><p>Especially when the uneasiness passed, and Sydney found that it had a certain undertone to it that had very little to do with the Dark. ...It seemed that Hardin's gaze might linger a bit also because he found what he was gazing at to be pleasant. Well... that was also a response Sydney was familiar with, and not put off by - though he wondered if Hardin even recognized it, given his reaction when Sydney had offered his blankets. It <em>might</em> be only that he had been alone so long as to be desperate, as Hardin himself had initially thought. But then again, after having had so many unpleasant truths about life laid bare, Hardin might be faced with a few more unexpected revelations.</p><p>Or perhaps not yet. The spring was approaching, the brethren were drawing close to Leá Monde, and if Hardin was uncomfortable with the Dark, Sydney suspected he would part ways with them then at the latest.</p><p>Therefore, when they passed close to a village, Sydney split them into small groups to acquire provisions without attracting attention. All but himself and Hardin, who remained at the edge of the trees beyond the village until the others were out of sight. Then, Sydney gestured for him to follow. "Come with me now."</p><p>Hardin obeyed, though curious. "Where are we going?"</p><p>"To a tailor," Sydney replied. "We can't have you taking Aryn's wardrobe if you do decide to leave us, and it's still a bit cold to go without clothes altogether."</p><p>Hardin was too insistent on balking to find amusement or offense in Sydney's teasing. "But I'm not-"</p><p>One of them, no. "You've shared the brethren's burdens, you've gathered wood for our cookfires, and you've respected our beliefs. And even if not for all that," Sydney pointed out, "a man deserves to have something of his own to wear."</p><p><i>...He won't let me deny him this time either, will he?</i> But aloud, he only said "Thank you."</p><p>And again, it was unnecessary - as was trying to convince Hardin of that, most likely. Sydney simply moved on. "In this town, I am known as Lord Stefan. Do not be troubled at my disguise - it is only a small thing."</p><p>"What do you-" <i>What in the </i>hell<i>?</i></p><p>Sydney had expected such a reaction to the illusion, but it was necessary. No change of clothing would do when one was infamous among the templars - and his limbs could not be subtly hidden by any normal means. A glamour, entirely changing his appearance, was the most viable option. "As you were told," he said, turning back so that Hardin could see the face he now wore, "the cardinal's men seek us, and neither would the king's men react kindly if they were to happen across me. Since the king's men seek you also, I would offer you a disguise as well, but I don't suppose you want one."</p><p><i>He could-</i> Hardin cut off even his own thought with the quickness of his reply. "That's all right."</p><p>Sydney couldn't help but smirk slightly. It might be for the best that Hardin was likely to leave them before Leá Monde, considering how small a thing the glamour was compared to the wonders one might see in the old city. "It's just as well, since you'll be trying on clothing. Now come."</p><p>As Sydney had said, he had done business several times in this town as Lord Stefan, and others among the brethren had similar alter egos. The town's tailor, a man named Ethan, greeted him warmly by the name he had taken, delighted to have the honor of fitting his newly acquired stablehand. Fortunately "Derek" caught on at once and acted appropriately.</p><p>Perhaps too appropriately. After having been escorted to the rack that would be the best fit, Hardin was intent on spending as little of Sydney's coin as possible. Undyed, plain wool, nothing of interest for ornamentation. "Would these be suitable?" he asked Sydney.</p><p>For a stablehand, yes. For Hardin, however, Sydney was not convinced. "Suitable, perhaps, but not particularly flattering. This color is more fitting for you, I think - and though spring approaches, it is not yet warm; you will need something a bit thicker to wear while you work outside... One of these, perhaps?" Even with Sydney directing him to less plain styles and materials, suggesting more articles than simply a shirt and trousers, Hardin obviously knew value when he saw it, and used this knowledge to continue choosing the least expensive options. He was even more stubborn in his self-denial than Sydney had thought.</p><p>But Ethan had other customers to attend to in his shop, and so Sydney accompanied Hardin to a room in back, with mirrors and a tall screen for changing. Although Aryn's clothing had been a good fit for Hardin, their complexions were different, and what favored one did not entirely favor the other. Hardin was a handsome man even so, Sydney thought idly; not precisely his usual taste, the beard made him a bit more overtly masculine than many of his lovers, but even if Hardin was not what Sydney tended towards, Sydney could still recognize a handsome man. It would be interesting to see him dressed as he might have once been, before his family's fortunes had begun to spiral into ruin.</p><p>His musings were interrupted by Hardin's thoughts as the man brushed a hand over his collar, flexing his arms slightly within the sleeves. <i>How long has it been since I've worn new clothing? Aryn's borrowed clothing was the first </i>clean<i> material that has touched my skin for months. And this...</i></p><p>The wonder apparent in his inner voice at the sensation was both sad, and repayment enough for the cost of the clothing. "Well then?" Sydney suggested. "Let us see how you look."</p><p><i>...Terrible.</i> Hardin's reaction when he stepped forth, seeing himself in the mirror, had nothing to do with the clothes he wore. <i>Weak, frail. I had no idea... I barely look as if I could lift a sword.</i></p><p>"Already you look better than when we first encountered you," Sydney told him. "Your strength will return in time, do not worry. For now, let your concern be for the fit of your clothing." Which, since Sydney had been seeing him all this time, was the most notable thing about Hardin at the moment. Not bad, but something still seemed a bit off. "Hmm... it seems to fit well enough. Turn around, would you?"</p><p>Indeed, the fit was fine. Perhaps a bit loose, for as Hardin had observed, he was still too thin for his height, and these untailored basic garments were not cut in such a way as to hide it. And besides, Sydney thought, seeing him here in the back room of a proper tailor's shop, surrounded by fine clothing, Sydney could see the echoes of a former young lord. He was sure he could do better. He shook his head as Hardin glanced over his shoulder, questioning. "Though I tried to persuade you otherwise, you've dressed yourself in peasant's clothing. Your bearing is too noble for it, Derek."</p><p>Sydney was pleased when Hardin needed little prompting to continue the act, though Ethan was nowhere in sight. "I did not wish to cost you more than I had to, milord."</p><p>"The cost is nothing you have to concern yourself with. It will be a gift. Why don't I find you something nicer?"</p><p>"Well... if it pleases you, milord." <i>Why is he being so kind?</i></p><p>"It does." Not for wholly charitable reasons, Sydney had to admit. Hardin was no chore to look at, and Sydney was sure he could provide a sight that would be better still, given the right trappings. Returning to the front of the shop, he assured Ethan that all was well, he merely thought his new servant might need something a bit less plain, something that would make his staff look proper when he hosted formal events - but not to worry, he would have a look himself...</p><p>Upon returning with trousers and jacket of soft leather and a few accessories to match - nothing so elaborate that it would draw attention, but much finer than what Hardin was in the process of removing - Sydney draped them over the screen where he would see them. "I think these are much more appropriate for you."</p><p>The jacket disappeared, and there was a pause. "Isn't this a mite expensive?"</p><p>"And who are you to tell me what is too expensive, Derek?" Ethan was most assuredly not listening in, but their little act was entertaining. "Now why don't you try them on?"</p><p>"...Yes, milord." <i>If he's going to keep this up, and even pull rank, I suppose he really means it.</i> Sydney smirked, and waited for Hardin to emerge once more.</p><p>When he did... Yes, Sydney thought. Yes, that was certainly <em>much</em> better. </p><p>Hardin seemed to be in agreement, from the murmurings of his heart as he looked himself over in the mirror thoughtfully. Sydney said nothing, letting Hardin take his time. He too was enjoying the sight. Even without the additional delight of Hardin's surprise and wonder at his reflection - <i>I can see the man I once was</i> - Sydney was, after all, looking at a handsome man in well-tailored clothing. Of leather, no less. So much clothing, and layers of it, was also not precisely his usual taste, but he could not deny that it was a very good look on Hardin. A very, very good look.</p><p>Hardin looked over to Sydney, and paused. <i>...He's enjoying this.</i> </p><p>So he'd noticed. And apparently he had noticed other things, such as Sydney's sleeping arrangements, because Hardin's soul followed that line of thought. <i>He's been with both the women and the men at night - so he </i>does<i> find men attractive. Is that why he's smiling like that, watching me?</i></p><p>Well then. "Indeed, Derek, you are quite pleasant to my eyes," Sydney replied. "Your eyes are weary but kind, and hold much spirit, and shrewd intelligence. Traces of a remarkable physique remain despite your current weakened state." It might have been a bit out of line, but Sydney could not resist teasing him a bit. "I've no doubt you could make an excellent... stablehand. Perhaps even horsemaster someday."</p><p>Hardin was not sure what to make of the remark at first. Sydney was amused - after the suggestion occurred to Hardin, the man actually blushed. And to his surprise, he <em>still</em> managed to stay the course, after a near-stumble. "Sy... Lord Stefan," he corrected himself, "I fear I am more of a... a vagabond, than a servant. I likely will not remain in your service for very long. And as for my thoughts on... the matter... the night we met... it was naught but a misunderstanding. I have not had... work... for a very long time."</p><p>Hardly a revelation. Though seeing him properly dressed, Sydney suspected he might have had plenty of "work", had he not been otherwise occupied, and had he been less severe about the matter than he appeared to be.</p><p>"And..." Hardin coughed, pausing to consider his wording. "I initially thought that I might be, uhm, working for a lady, rather than a lord."</p><p>Which did not explain why Hardin so often let his eyes linger, but no matter. "I know. But does it really matter so much if it is a lord or lady employing you, so long as the work is honest?" Just how open <em>was</em> Hardin to the idea, Sydney wondered?</p><p><i>He </i>is<i> enjoying this.</i> Hardin's eyes narrowed somewhat. "It is quite different working for a lord rather than a lady."</p><p>"Is it really?" Sydney pondered. And yes, he was enjoying this. Hardin was matching him line for line, and the awkwardness was endearing, after a fashion. "Have you ever worked for a lord before?"</p><p>"No, I have always enjoyed working for ladies."</p><p>Sydney could not resist. "Perhaps my employ might change your mind."</p><p>Hardin's cheeks and his eyes smoldered. "Quite honestly, milord," he stated, "I do not believe I am the type of servant you would prefer. If you seek someone to muck out stables for you, I would advise you to look elsewhere."</p><p>Oh, <em>very</em> good - Sydney had to laugh. His time spent almost entirely among his followers, who nearly worshipped him, he had very little opportunity for this kind of verbal sparring. "Rarely do I encounter one who will speak with me so frankly! And properly within metaphor, no less. Calm yourself, Hardin," he assured him, "I would not have you do anything you do not wish to do. I merely thought that perhaps you might appreciate the offer."</p><p>"I'm flattered, Sydney, but I am no lover of men. If you can read my heart, you know that."</p><p>"Yes, I can." And perhaps it <em>was</em> only that Hardin had been so long without any sort of intimacy. That was not a problem Sydney had faced in recent years, and he probably shouldn't tease. As entertaining as the response had been. "Now, let us speak of something else. Do the clothes fit you well? Can you move freely in them?"</p><p>Hardin had almost forgotten, and he nodded. "But Sydney, I-"</p><p>His next words were lost; the Dark abruptly stirred, shifting around Sydney, and much too clearly, he heard the sound of armor nearby. He motioned immediately for Hardin to stop speaking, and went to open the door to the front of the shop just a crack, with Hardin following his lead.</p><p>The Blades. Two of the Cardinal's templars had entered the shop. This was unexpected - the Crimson Blades had not crossed their path since they had been prowling around the village where Müllenkamp had overwintered. Could it be coincidence they were there, now?</p><p>Ethan had no reason to think anything of it, of course. "Can I help you gentlemen?"</p><p>"I believe you can. We're looking for a man, roughly this tall, pale of hair and of complexion, with dark eyes. Dark, strange eyes..."</p><p>Hardin jerked back, recognizing who they spoke of, and Sydney realized how they must have found their way. "Jaeger's tunic..." he murmured.</p><p>"What?" Hardin whispered back, but Sydney cut him off again with another motion of his hand, listening. </p><p>"His hair falls just below his chin, and he travels with something of an entourage. Have you ever sold clothing to this man, or any of his companions?"</p><p>Ethan paused to think, but of course he had never sold to Sydney. Only Lord Stefan. "Not that I can recall."</p><p>"Are you absolutely certain?"</p><p>"Yes, quite."</p><p>"You lie. Does this look familiar?"</p><p>Ethan examined the piece of fabric the knight had offered. "Why yes, I use that stitch to identify all my garments."</p><p>So the Blades knew the brethren had been here. Not that they <em>were</em> there at present, in all likelihood. As well, Sydney had foretold nothing happening here, nothing happening today, nothing at all to make him think that this trip into town for supplies was to have any significance. Admittedly the gods did not tell him of everything that was to pass - and merely not having been specifically warned of disaster did not mean that making poor decisions might not cause one to come to pass.</p><p>Ethan was still denying he'd ever seen a man that looked like the one they sought, the Blades were accusing him of aiding them. Precisely why Sydney disguised himself, and yet in this case it did not help Ethan. "An unfortunate coincidence that they should come while we are here," he said softly to Hardin, "or perhaps fortunate, for the sake of the tailor. This looks as if it may become a bit unpleasant."</p><p>And Hardin had no responsibility to bear in this situation. He would also not enjoy this, Sydney thought wryly, but it could not be helped. He straightened, taking a step back from the door. "I apologize for the abruptness, Hardin, but you have no need to become involved in this. When you arrive, stay where you are."</p><p>"Hmm?" Hardin looked back at him. "What do you-"</p><p>Sydney had already begun to call upon the Dark. "To blackened wing and wav'ring light-"</p><p><i>Sorcery!</i> Hardin's heart recognized with alarm. "Sydney-"</p><p>There was no time to explain. Sydney spoke the words of command, and Hardin vanished. This would require some explanation later, no doubt, but for the moment, Hardin was both out of danger and somewhere where he would be of use. Now, to deal with the most imminent threat.</p><p>Ethan, frightened and stammering under the questioning of the two templars, instinctively turned to look as he heard the door to the back room open. "Ah - Lord Stefan - if you would come back later, I will be pleased to assist you, when-"</p><p>He stopped speaking suddenly. The Crimson Blades froze. Or perhaps it was time that stood still, waiting for the Dark to do its work, as Sydney directed it. Much as with his sudden spell upon Hardin, Sydney did not particularly want to do it, and took no pleasure. But for the safety of those who were blameless, it was necessary.</p><p>Minutes, hours, moments later, one of the two templars nodded. "I see. If such a man should come to you, please send word to the guard, that they may detain him. He's a rebel, a dissident - his capture is of vital importance to keeping the peace in Valendia."</p><p>"Oh... oh my." Ethan nodded, in alarmed agreement. "Of course, good sirs. Take care," he added, as they turned to leave. </p><p><i>What an odd encounter...</i> the tailor thought to himself. Then, <i>Ah, yes. Lord Stefan and his stablehand. Always a quality transaction,</i> he thought idly, returning to what he'd been about to do, putting away the payment Lord Stefan had placed before him on the counter just before the templars had arrived and distracted him.</p><p>All seemed well. "Lord Stefan" was already leaving through the back room, and the other heartseers had been made aware that the Blades were about, instructed to leave the village. Not too quickly, not all at once, but they must begin to move. Move, but very cautiously. Most of the small groups they had split up into did not contain other heartseers; Sydney would find them, and direct each in turn to safety.</p><p>Sydney knew the hearts of his followers, in particular those who had been with him for the longest, and the Dark bound them together. It was easy enough to sense a pair of them nearby - and their unease when they had spotted the templars passing by. Upon catching up with them, they told Sydney there had been four. So there were more afoot...</p><p>Two by two or three by three, Sydney sought out the brethren and gave them instructions. Most could simply leave by the main road without attracting notice, gather out of sight in the hills. Their errands had been simple, they could carry what they had purchased. There was no need to load everything onto the cart - which was in the town stables with Aiden and Domenic, the two most often responsible for the horses. There were a few heavy items that they were to load, but if they had not finished yet, the priorities had changed - Sydney walked past another pair of Blades along the way. From what he gathered of their thoughts, they had suspected that Müllenkamp would be passing this way; they did not realize that Müllenkamp had arrived before they had.</p><p>And with any luck or the gods' blessing, Müllenkamp would be gone before the templars knew they had ever been there. There was no one else left for Sydney to find aside from those he knew were in the stables, and most of the rest were outside the village or on their way.</p><p>...He had been so close. Shouts erupted a few streets over. Screams, as the village's residents scrambled to get out of the way. Padric's voice, in his mind. <i>They've spotted us.</i> Sydney walked faster, letting his disguise fade away as he drew the sword at his waist. The glamour was of no use now. Padric's mindspeak, again. <i>Duncan is wounded. They know us. They know our tricks.</i></p><p><i>Then I will use mine,</i> Sydney replied.</p><p>He could not summon, nor could he use certain magicks in the midst of a town without endangering its people. But he could certainly use it to distract the Blades who he had just spotted, facing off against three of his brethren who stood between them and Duncan, on the ground behind.</p><p>Though they knew that the brethren of Müllenkamp were present, they were not expecting the sudden roaring of a great gust of wind washing over them, above the rooftops. Believing Sydney to be selfish, thoughtless, they did not realize he would not summon - they shouted out warnings, turned to face their new opponent. Their only new opponent was Sydney, who dispatched the closest of them while the three other swordsmen took down the rest from behind.</p><p>Duncan was not in terrible danger, Sydney determined upon kneeling to examine him, as the others stood watch. A wound in his side, but it could be healed. For the moment, the best thing to do was send him to safety, using the same spell he had used on Hardin. That should take him to where their kin were gathered, while Sydney and those who remained made their way towards the stables to bring out their brethren with the horses and cart.</p><p>The effect Sydney had used to distract the initial group of templars, however, also served as a beacon to the Crimson Blades who had entered the town. Another half dozen intercepted them at the next cross street, and Anaias took a blow to the leg. Sydney paused to send him outside of the town as well before they continued on. That left him with but two other swordsmen at his side, Padric and Louis, but Kermiak and Laurent met with them along the way, having recognized before they managed to leave the town that there was trouble. It was not much, when they did not know how many Blades there might be, but they had to reach the stables.</p><p>Aiden had already hitched two of the horses and was bringing over the other two; Domenic was trying to calm them. Of course, it was no surprise to the Blades where Sydney and his followers might be headed, and by the time the cart had been drawn out into the stableyard, a number of them had assembled, blocking their only way out - and that of a number of innocent stablehands and other bystanders.</p><p>This would be... interesting, without the use of strong magic. They were outnumbered, trapped, there were civilians about, and the transport of the cart and horses was significantly more difficult than getting individual persons past them and through the gate. But those who were with him were talented swordsmen - and while Sydney was not so well-practiced with a sword, he had certain advantages, even without spells. He glanced to those at his sides, and they nodded. They were ready.</p><p>Sydney took up the central position between the more accomplished fighters, before Aiden and Domenic, who had no swords. From there, he was close at hand for anyone who might require his assistance - and the others might close in easily to protect their unarmed brethren, should he fall. It would be a struggle, he acknowledged, as after two Blades went down before him, three more took their place. Undoubtedly they had recognized their most valuable target. For the moment, he could hold his own, if he could simply maintain defense long enough for another of his men to assist.</p><p>But he was not infallible - one templar's sword managed to slip past him as he dodged aside, and he heard Aiden cry out in pain. No mortal wound, from the glance Sydney managed to take between blows, and Domenic could manage the horses alone. Best to send Aiden out of harm's way, for the magic came more naturally to Sydney than the sword. He barely skipped a beat as he began to recite the spell once more, focusing the energies on its destination...</p><p>...Only for Aiden to appear again in front of him. </p><p>And, as it so happened, alongside his intended destination - who was standing before them, looking just as astonished as Sydney was.</p><p>Of <em>course</em> Hardin would have rushed in to help, Sydney thought irritably. He had been told to stay where he was, so that Sydney had somewhere safe to send the others, and yet he had-</p><p>Before Sydney could rebuke him, or determine what to do with this new complication, something struck him with a great force, knocking the breath from him... and no wonder, he realized, looking down to find a templar's sword buried in his chest.</p><p>With what little time he had left before he fell to the ground, his world going dim, he somehow managed to work up quite a bit of anger.</p><p>-----</p><p>Life and death, light and dark. Opposing forces, but intertwined, dependent on one another. The Dark was a negative force, feeding upon pain and bloodshed and malice, but not entirely indiscrimate, nor was it entirely selfish. It knew what it must do to survive, and that more than its own survival was at stake if it did not. It knew its companions, it spared at least a minimal amount of respect for those who respected it in turn.</p><p>Pain was covered in shadows, rushing in to fill the emptiness with a deeper emptiness, until it was full, until all that had been lost had been replaced, for the Dark knew what it needed, and who.</p><p>Bitterness, salt. The taste of blood. The weight upon his weightless chest, the light trying to push its way in, past the Dark...</p><p>But the Dark had finished its work. And the light Sydney opened his eyes to was only the light of the sun, over Hardin's shoulder as the man stood over him, staring down in shock.</p><p>Ah yes. Hardin.</p><p>Sydney began to speak, but his lungs, knit back together, were still full of the blood that had spilled into them; immediately he choked, and pushed himself upright, so the blood he coughed up would not immediately choke him again. It took several breaths before he finally managed to get a few of the words out. "I... told you..." He had to stop to cough again, wiping away more blood from his lips with the back of his hand as he glared up at Hardin. "...to stay... where you were."</p><p>Even Hardin's very soul seemed to have been stunned into silence. If not for his anger, Sydney would probably have found it amusing. </p><p>There was no time for anger or amusement. Padric was at his side as well, and Sydney asked him. "Are the others safe?" Padric nodded. "Good," said Sydney. "Then let us join them."</p><p>It looked as though anyone uninvolved in the fight had fled the scene, or hidden themselves away, for they were alone in the stableyard. Aiden was still there, of course, and Louis was helping him up into the cart. The templar had struck him in the shoulder, and Sydney would do something about that as soon as he could, once he had recovered a bit more from the Dark healing his own flesh. It was also unwise to remain in the town any longer than necessary - they had been the cause of enough trouble and confusion. Once Kermiak had brought back the horses whose reins Aiden had dropped, they needed to move quickly.</p><p>Once they were beyond the edges of town, nearer to the hollow where the rest of the brethren were waiting, they could relax a bit. Or so it should have been. Sydney was still furious. If Hardin had just done as he was told and stayed where he had been sent...</p><p>But he was not of their number. He was not, despite the teasing earlier, Sydney's servant. He did not know these things, nor was he obligated to obey. </p><p>Despite knowing all this, the anger still smoldered in Sydney's chest like the lingering stiffness of newly knit muscle and tissue. Like the Dark that had coaxed his soul back. ...It might be a factor, now that he thought of it. The Dark reveled in anger much as it did pain. Better to keep his distance from Hardin for the time being, or he might say or do something he would later regret.</p><p>And there were plenty of other things to attend to. Aiden's shoulder, for instance. Duncan's wound and Anaias's had been tended by those others among the brethren who had the knowledge to heal, so once Sydney and his party had returned to their fellows waiting in the hills, and he had confirmed that everyone was accounted for and unharmed - and he had had time to calm himself enough that he might be able to speak comforting words instead of sharp ones - he circled back to where Kermiak was helping Aiden down from the cart, trying not to jostle his injured shoulder as he did so. "I will take care of that," Sydney told Kermiak, resting his hand upon Aiden's arm. "Here, Aiden, sit..."</p><p>They settled themselves in the grass beside the cart, and Sydney let his hand drift upwards past the torn, bloody fabric to Aiden's bared shoulder, calling upon the powers to mend the sundered muscle and skin and bone. "I apologize for the trouble," Aiden murmured as a warmer, more gentle power than the Dark flowed between them, healing his wound more softly.</p><p>"If anything, I should apologize to you," Sydney remarked, "seeing as I was the one who let that sword slip through." He had brought also a bit of washrag, dampened from his waterskin earlier so that he could wipe away the blood upon his own chest; having rinsed it, he began to do the same for Aiden.</p><p>"Ah, but you did save our lives," Aiden told him earnestly, slipping his shoulder free from the ruined shirt so that Sydney's cloth could clean more thoroughly. "You are the very hand of the gods - I could never think that you have not done all you could for us."</p><p>...There were other things besides pain and anger in which the Dark delighted, through which it might be sated. The fervent look upon Aiden's face was a reminder, and Sydney pressed his lips against the cool, damp, newly healed skin of the young man's bare shoulder, feeling firm, smooth muscle beneath, the slight shudder as he lingered there, as he touched the tip of his tongue to Aiden's skin. Yes... that would do nicely, when it was time. </p><p>His eyes lifted to meet Aiden's. "...I am glad to have you still with us, Aiden. Perhaps tonight I might explain more fully."</p><p>"Of course," Aiden replied softly. "Of course - I would like that."</p><p>A pity, Sydney thought, that it was only afternoon, and they must go on before making camp. He could very much have used some... release.</p><p>But it was not safe to stay so close to the village that had been caught up in the feud between Müllenkamp and the Crimson Blades. The brethren, having encountered such situations before, had loaded what provisions they'd acquired before the disruption onto the cart when it returned, and were prepared to move on as soon as Sydney gave the word. He did so at once - it would not do to have their efficiency wasted. And having done so, he could move up and walk at the head of the party as he often did, and mostly be left alone.</p><p>Though the Dark was a constant presence within and surrounding Sydney, being thoroughly engulfed by it in such a way as to bring him back from death was different. Being forced to create rather than destroy? Going against the very nature of the Dark? It demanded a price. The selfish desires and frustrations and despair that infused the Dark infused <em>him</em>, ran like poison through his veins. At times, he could purge it, giving in to the base urges it inspired until he had satisfied it - but in many cases, such as this afternoon, he could only seethe silently, frustrated and irritable, while he waited for the effects to fade. Or until they made camp for the night, and he and Aiden might find a place apart from the others. </p><p>He was still somewhat preoccupied with that when they did reach an appropriate stopping place, as well as still slightly on edge. To be honest, he had nearly forgotten about Hardin and his role in the episode until the man sought him out, while the others were finishing the after-dinner chores. Not who Sydney was hoping to see, and the reminder left him further annoyed as he turned to face Hardin, from where he'd been idly, restlessly pacing beyond the edge of the firelight.</p><p>"Sydney," Hardin began, "I just wanted to apologize, for not doing as you asked. Padric explained to me... I had no idea."</p><p>Of course he didn't. He only barely believed in the Dark, or the powers the brethren made use of. Less so before he had seen Sydney return from death, presumably. What Hardin knew of magic was from the faerie stories of youth - anything one wanted, done with no more than the wave of a hand or the wink of an eye. He could not know there were rules, numerous prerequisites and precautions. Sydney had sent him precisely to a safe place with a few cryptic words; surely it was nothing to him, and he could do the same to anyone anytime he wished. While parrying the attacks of three knights. </p><p>...Hardin was trying to apologize, and Sydney held his tongue lest he say any of it aloud. Sarcasm would not serve any reasonable purpose. </p><p>Hardin sighed. "You have done so much for me - even on this very day - and by not obeying a simple request you made of me, I nearly allowed one of your men to die... and could have gotten you killed as well." <i>...Well, if he </i>could<i> be killed...?</i></p><p>Sydney had to smirk a bit at the bewilderment. "Nothing you could do could bring about my death, Hardin. You believe the stories now, do you not?"</p><p><i>Do I...?</i> "I believe that I need to do a lot of thinking about what I believe."</p><p>That was a very apt way to not answer the question, Sydney noted, with mild amusement. But it didn't matter. "If you believe nothing else, believe this," he told Hardin. "When I give an order to those in my company, I expect it to be followed without question. Doing otherwise will do nothing to me, but only serve to bring trouble down upon your own head."</p><p>Hardin nodded. He had been in the PeaceGuard; he knew how to follow orders. And what happened when he had not followed them then, so he should have known better. </p><p>Despite his continued agitation, Sydney couldn't remain overly angry when Hardin was so obviously contrite, and he rested a hand on Hardin's shoulder. "I do understand why, Hardin. You are a good man." And though he'd been expecting otherwise... "I would count myself fortunate if you chose to remain with us."</p><p>Hardin's eyes flickered down to the metal claws, resting upon the leathers he wore. <i>Strange how they already don't trouble me so much as they used to. Though his touch is still troubling, after that conversation in the tailor's back room.</i></p><p>And <em>that</em> was an intriguing thought. Particularly tempting given Sydney's current state of stifled frustrations. As he had noted before, Hardin was a rather attractive man, especially now that he was dressed in a manner befitting him. Aiden would do nicely, and he was willing, but Hardin's resistance and confusion and shame... these were things the Dark enjoyed - which meant, at the moment, so would Sydney.</p><p>Hardin started suddenly. He couldn't have known what Sydney was thinking, could he? But no, it was another thought that had suddenly occurred to Hardin. "Sydney... what happened to the tailor?"</p><p>Ah, of course such a thoughtful soul as Hardin would be concerned. "Ethan is safe, and he has been paid," Sydney assured him. He had made certain, before he left the back room, that at least two of the Blades had it in their minds to do something more useful than occupying the town. "The two templars who visited him are on their way back to the cardinal, and they will tell him that their informant was mistaken - the garments were not Ethan's work." If Sydney had realized that Ethan was marking his work in such a way, he would have made some kind of effort... but now the cardinal's men had no further leads. "It was not for my sake that I disguised myself when within the village, but for those whose shops I frequent."</p><p>"But... didn't Ethan admit to the clothes being his?"</p><p>Hardin might have known so little of magic to think of it as limitless - and yet he knew so little as to be unaware of the numerous things it could do. Sydney wondered if he should explain, when Hardin might not stay long enough for it to ever be raised again...</p><p>But then, if he was to leave or to stay, more knowledge might help him to reach a decision. "Hardin, there is a gift that the Dark has given me that could be very dangerous if bestowed upon the wrong person: compulsion."</p><p>Hardin's eyes widened, but Sydney met them, tightening his grip on Hardin's shoulder just a bit. Even some of his own followers were uncomfortable with it - how much more a man whose eyes had only recently been opened. "The gift is a precious one," he stated, "given only to those whom the Dark believes will not misuse it, to reweave the threads of human thoughts and emotions for their own selfish purposes. It is a last resort, and nothing more. Today I used it so that no harm would come to an innocent man, and that is all."</p><p>"Y-yes... I understand. I will trust you." Beneath Sydney's hand, the tension of his shoulder eased somewhat, though Hardin's mind raced along. <i>Gods, but the temptation to use such a power must be immense! ...But if he were intending to use it on me, surely he would have done so already.</i></p><p>"Thank you." And again, Hardin's thoughts turned <em>that</em> direction, did they? The temptation - and not to use his compulsion - was still there, but Sydney stifled it, letting go of Hardin's shoulder to step back... though he could not resist one more tease. "I would much prefer my 'stablehands' to come to me of their own free will, Derek. If you should ever change your mind..."</p><p>Hardin did not disappoint. "I think my decision shall stand, milord."</p><p>He too wore the hint of a smile, and Sydney had to laugh slightly. "I do so enjoy our talks, Hardin." But it was growing dark, and the brethren were settling in for dinner and rest, and Sydney was still feeling rather impatient. "At any rate, I suppose I shall go and find myself a more willing 'stablehand' for the time being. Sleep well."</p><p>Not that he had to look far, but before he found Aiden, there were certainly some intriguing thoughts that kept Sydney company, given his parting words. Hardin had been sleeping in his blankets for a week - did they hold his scent now? The scent of both of them, perhaps? Did Hardin think about it, that Sydney had spent many nights between those blankets, at times with others?</p><p>It was a relief to set eyes upon Aiden, settled also just beyond the firelight, holding his still-bundled blankets and waiting. Clearly, Sydney needed some more acceptable way to vent his current frustrations.</p><p>-----</p><p>The base, carnal urges were one effect of being so completely drenched in the Dark, joining with the forbidden element in such an existential way. Another effect was that one was temporarily less themselves, less human. More as a god.</p><p>And the gods knew more than mortal men, even those to whom they deigned to toss the crumbs of their knowledge. To such a man, having been pushed past the limits of mortality, the knowledge came more easily. The fires rained from the screaming skies, the great devil rose laughing from the ruins. </p><p>By necessity, Sydney woke early. He rested for a time in Aiden's embrace before carefully extracting himself, so that he might compose himself before the others woke.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Whether it was the lingering effects of having been so infused with the Dark, their increasing proximity to the city, or perhaps whatever the Lady had said was coming "soon", the dreams came almost nightly. Each time just a bit different in content and presentation, showing Sydney different aspects, different perspectives, different scenes, but the same theme. </p><p>Some were straightforward enough. There was no way to misinterpret the chaos of the temple's destruction, and the ensuing chaos that Sydney could not have put into mortal terms had he tried. He knew what would happen if he failed. The parts that were less certain, both visions of the past and of the future - and some that might have been either - were connected, but he did not yet understand how and why.</p><p>After years, he thought he knew what certain fragments were showing him, to some degree. The Lady, dancing with a sword, was a part of the events long ago that had led to the current state of events, the truth behind Leá Monde. And of course that was where it would all unfold, given the destruction of the temple shown so prominently. The man whom he'd seen only in shadow was someone he had yet to meet, who had a role to play. Perhaps similar to Sydney's own - perhaps even the one who would take Sydney's place once he was gone. The vision of his father and himself... he did not recall it consciously, and he might even be wrong about it having been his father, but he did not think so. Faces were indistinct and blurred in these visions, for the gods differentiated between humans by their souls, not by the vessels they temporarily inhabited. Yet the hints of appearance he could make out, and surely the sense of familiarity, of fondness mingled with sorrow, seemed that they should have been appropriate for his father when he was younger, when Sydney himself had been so small. It might have been something to do with the ritual that had saved Sydney's life as a child.</p><p>Or perhaps some other ritual, or some episode that Sydney had been too young and ill to recall consciously, for in the vision, the man was wounded, and gravely. His father had been a knight many years past - retired before Sydney was born. He might have still taken part in some battle...? Sydney did not recall ever having seen his father wounded, bleeding... but that did not mean it had not happened. There were large portions of his childhood that he could not remember at all.</p><p>That particular detail of the ...memory? Vision? ... had only resolved itself a few nights before they reached Leá Monde. Perhaps it <em>was</em> the swell of the Dark, a roiling mass trapped within the paling, calling to its freed counterpart outside, that caused him to see the blood seeping through cloth, staining a leather glove that reached out...</p><p>It showed itself again the night before they reached the city. Sydney's eyes remained closed upon waking, uncertain as of yet whether he wanted to let the sight slip away, or grasp it tighter, to examine it and try to make some sort of sense out of it. What had happened, why would the gods show it to him in the midst of the rest? Had something passed between the two of them that he needed to remember?</p><p>
  <i>Seeing him like this, having seen him die and live again, I could almost take him for an angel or a god myself. ...But that I believed in such things - I have seen too much in this life. He is a man. An odd, exceptional man, but still a man.</i>
</p><p>The thought was not his own, and had most definitely not come from Aiden, who remained in a more peaceful dream at his side. It took Sydney only a moment to recall who there was among them who might express that last sentiment, only one who would deny the existence of the gods. But why would he be hearing the thoughts of...</p><p>All this time, Sydney had managed to keep his followers unaware of his own doubts and fears, maintaining the reassuring illusion that he was calm and in control, only to now... No, he was still successful at that much, for the one he sensed nearby was not one of his followers. Sydney opened his eyes. The man seated only a few paces away, watching him drowsily, jerked up his head in alarm at the sight. <i>You are a very strange man, John Hardin,</i> Sydney observed silently.</p><p>Hardin's mouth opened to try to explain himself, but even in his heart the words were tripping over each other, much as his body was about to as he scrambled to his feet. That wouldn't do. <i>No need to speak aloud,</i> Sydney told him through the mindspeak, <i>nor to excuse yourself. Your presence does not trouble me, so calm yourself before your stomping about wakes Aiden - unlike myself, I've no doubt that he would be upset.</i></p><p><i>...But why is he not angry?</i> Hardin had frozen at Sydney's direction, though his thoughts still whirled. <i>He has every right to be. Me, spying on him, while he dreamed... his tears are still upon his cheeks...</i></p><p>And it wasn't that Sydney was not angry at all - but far more, he was curious. Hardin was not even one of their number, one of his followers. What reason could he possibly have for watching Sydney sleep? <i>So you have been watching me,</i> Sydney acknowledged. <i>You have seen the tears that I have hidden for many long years. Why return again and again, Hardin? Why, when your own thoughts told you it was an intrusion?</i></p><p><i>I... couldn't say.</i> </p><p>Hardin opened his mouth to speak again, but again Sydney quieted him. <i>Hush - I have joined our minds in a rapport, so you have no need to speak out loud. Merely think what you would say, and I will hear it. ...So you don't know yourself?</i></p><p><i>Our minds...joined?</i> But Hardin did his best to put his unease aside and do as Sydney instructed. <i>No, I do not. I pondered it again and again, and could come up with no definite answer. In a way, it was... it made me remember watching my brother sleep, when he was ill.</i></p><p><i>Ah...</i> Sydney remembered those memories the Dark had shown him the night he and Hardin had met, the large bed in the empty manor, the chair beside. The little boy, crying. <i>And when the nightmares came, you would free him from their grasp, I see.</i> Yet there was a significant difference. <i>But you would not wake me from mine. What then was the point of watching?</i></p><p><i>...I've been wondering that myself. Why indeed? Well... It was... I just... You were...</i> It took a moment for Hardin to come up with a way to sort through it enough to put it into words. <i>Somehow, I just felt that I must. It gave me a feeling of peace, and it... it seemed such an unusual thing.</i></p><p>Given what he'd been thinking when Sydney awoke, Sydney thought he might have an inkling. Particularly since although Hardin had stayed with them to this point, he had been so obviously avoiding Sydney after that incident in the village, when Hardin had seen what the Dark would do for him. It could have been because of this minor voyeurism - it was clear that this was not the first time Hardin had been watching him at night - but Sydney had initially assumed another reason. <i>It made me more human, and less distant and cold, as you view the gods the others mistake me for to be. Is it not so?</i></p><p><i>Ahhh...</i> Hardin had not put the pieces together himself yet, but it made sense. <i>Of course... you're right.</i></p><p>And of course Sydney knew that he had still not believed, even after what he had seen. <i>Why is it so impossible to you that I could be what they say?</i></p><p>
  <i>...If I may speak frankly, Sydney...?</i>
</p><p>As if it could be otherwise, with their minds joined and Hardin almost entirely untrained. Though Sydney had to admit, despite Hardin being unnerved, he had learned quickly how to organize and direct his thoughts for a semblance of ordinary speech through the mindspeak. Many found it difficult at first to restrict themselves to proper sentences, rather than fragments of ideas. Even so, Hardin could not have spoken falsely to him. <i>I would have it no other way.</i></p><p>Hardin's expression had darkened. <i>...You cannot be a god, because you have shown your face to me, treated me with kindness and generosity, and spoken to me. No god has ever taken the time to do such things.</i></p><p>So much bitterness in him. But Sydney's dreams were not far from his thoughts, and he smiled faintly in unfortunate understanding. <i>Do you remember when I told you that the gods weep?</i></p><p>
  <i>Yes...</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Many men believe, as you do, that the gods do not speak to them. I tell you this - the gods speak to man far more often than you would think; and men refuse to hear, because what the gods tell them is often... unpleasant.</i>
</p><p>Hardin clearly took his meaning, though he knew not what to say - intentionally, at least. His muddled, uneasy thoughts were still audible to Sydney, and Sydney decided to make it easier on him, closing his eyes for a moment, calling upon his magic for just one little favor...</p><p>"You find the mindspeak confusing and distressing, do you not?" Sydney asked, sitting up beneath the blanket he shared with Aiden. "I have placed Aiden in a deeper sleep; he will not wake unless I reverse the spell, so we may speak freely now."</p><p>"Thank you," Hardin murmured, and finally relaxed enough to sit down again.</p><p>Now perhaps they could properly converse. "Yes, the gods speak to me in dreams," Sydney confirmed softly. "They tell me of what has happened... and what is to be." To a man such as Hardin, he knew this may sound mad. "I know you do not believe in the gods, Hardin, and that is fine; your beliefs are your own, borne of your experiences. Please take no offense when I speak of mine, borne of my own."</p><p>Hardin nodded. At least he was willing to listen.</p><p>Some of it, he most likely did not have to tell Hardin. "As you have witnessed firsthand, mankind is truly a primitive, barbaric species. Though we are capable of great kindnesses and incredible ideas, inventions and philosophies and art, we are also the only species which devours each other out of greed rather than necessity, which destroys for sport, giving nothing back to the earth - even burying our dead away where their remains cannot rejoin with the earth from whence they came. Despite all the goodness in us, a taint exists in our kind." </p><p>And this was where his faith began to part ways with that of even the most hopeless among common men. "It is a part of the mysteries of my followers and I," Sydney explained, "that this current age is drawing to a close due to this taint - the gods have revealed it to me in my dreams. The things that will come, the great evils that will be done..."</p><p>A man turned demon in his lust for the Dark, ushering in the rebirth of the great devil... Sydney could still hear the echoes of inhuman laughter as he rose.</p><p>But that was not to be. Not just yet. Sydney dug the metal claws of his right hand into the dirt between them, idly drawing circles. Something solid, real, physical. Present, not past or future. At the moment, he was <em>here</em>. And <em>now</em>. And trying to explain to Hardin, who had knowledge only of <em>here and now</em>. "The priest and philosopher Durai once wrote, 'And lo, the body is not eternal, for it must feed on the flesh of others, lest it return to the dust whence it came. Therefore must the soul deceive, despise, and murder men.' So it shall be done with increasing frequency in the coming years, with few recognizing the futility." </p><p>Circles and circles and circles. Beneath his claws, throughout the world. "As one man avoids returning to the dust, he sends another to the grave, and if no end is found to this cycle, naught but dust shall remain. I know not if I can avert this calamity, being only one man - blessed though I am. Others have performed this task before me, and yet..."</p><p>Sydney was still rattled, apparently, and rambling on. He had not meant to speak of his own role, and he paused, recollecting himself to look back up to Hardin. "I suppose I have said too much. Being an unbeliever, you no doubt think me mad."</p><p><i>...Perhaps he is. But as he respects my disbelief, I will respect him.</i> But aloud, Hardin said only "I know too little to make a judgment such as that."</p><p>Sydney smiled faintly, looking back to the meaningless circles he'd etched into the ground. "I understand. Apocalyptic prophecies, dreams sent from the lips of the gods... To a man with no faith, they seem as deceptive and fleeting as the fever dreams of your brother, do they not?"</p><p>"I don't know," Hardin replied honestly. "He was a boy, and ill. You are a grown man, and appear to be in good enough health. Neither have I seen indications of madness from you, even if I do find your beliefs to be more fanciful than my own."</p><p>Fanciful. That was an amusing way to put it. "In a way, I envy you your lack of faith, Hardin. Believing nothing, you are bound by nothing. For you, the end of the world is nothing more than a dream. But for one such as myself..."</p><p>He knew better. He could see it, hear it, like a vast army advancing just past the horizon, and he knew not when it might show itself - and sight him. Again, his claws scratched in the dirt. Present, on the solid physical earth, now.</p><p>He was so preoccupied with trying to ground himself again, he was hardly aware of Hardin's continued presence, let alone the thoughts that were sorting themselves out in Hardin's mind before he finally broke the silence. "If it's true, Sydney," he began, his words halting and cautious, "and it is a revelation from the gods, then I am glad that I stayed up these nights to witness your sorrow. You have been good to me, you protect your followers well... it is not right that you should suffer this with no one knowing what you endure."</p><p>Sydney looked up at him, mildly surprised and genuinely touched. It was something that his own followers could not have expressed - they had to have absolute faith in his ability to manage what was coming, they could not know his weaknesses. "A kind sentiment." Then again, perhaps he should not have been surprised, given what Hardin had shown of himself. "I'd have expected nothing less from you."</p><p>Though from one who did not believe, he would have expected scorn ordinarily, and was not quite sure what to make of it. After a moment, he opted to ask. "...But since you believe that there are no gods and no prophecies?"</p><p>"I wish I'd woken you as I did my brother."</p><p>Sydney nearly chuckled. Still a kind sentiment, however irreverent. "You chose wisely. Your watching did not bother me, but your interruption would have."</p><p>His amusement did not last, however, the visions still haunting around the edges of his thoughts despite Aiden's solid, warm presence beside him, Hardin's voice speaking audible words, the clods of dirt crumbling at the touch of the sharp edges of his fingers, real and physical but just as steeped in the unseen powers as his dreams. "...Though often I have wished someone would," Sydney murmured. "I would not have the gods' revelations cut short, but..." </p><p>His hand clenched in a fist; he didn't know why he was saying such things, particularly to Hardin. Except, perhaps, that Hardin was, for some reason, listening without judgment. Without the risk of him turning away from Sydney, losing faith - for he had none to lose. "It is at least a comfort to wake in the embrace of another mortal," he admitted. "To feel that warmth and to know before I even open my eyes that I am in the waking world again at last, and I am not alone."</p><p>These sorts of thoughts... since the passing of his predecessor, there had been no one to talk to about these matters aside from Müllenkamp, who had not been mortal for many centuries. Sydney was not sure how much she remembered the comforts of the flesh, of spoken words. His followers and the offering of their bodies were of some help, yes, but merely a shallow, temporary distraction. They worshipped; they did not empathize.</p><p>How strange that he should find a measure of sympathy in a man who did not believe - a man who Sydney had fully expected would be leaving their number upon the morn, rather than entering the old, fallen city which no longer saw human life apart from the rites of M&amp;ummlllenkamp's small following. But Hardin's sympathy had nothing to do with Sydney's power, or the weight of prophecy, merely the shared human experience of unwelcome dreams. He had no wisdom or insight to offer, but he had something more basic...</p><p>Perhaps just this once, before Hardin left them, the gods had granted him the chance to partake in it. "How would you have awakened me, Hardin?" Sydney dared to ask, almost in a whisper. "How did you awaken your brother?"</p><p>"A hand on the shoulder to-"</p><p>"No, no," Sydney interrupted. Hardin didn't understand, and Sydney met his eyes. "Show me."</p><p>Hardin was still puzzled at the request, but he rose, coming to kneel by Sydney's side. He lifted a hand, then hesitated - <i>When was the last time I touched someone, but for some kind of struggle...?</i> - before resting it on Sydney's shoulder. "Like this," he said aloud, and to demonstrate, shook Sydney's shoulder gently, while reaching with his other hand for Sydney's. "It wasn't anything-"</p><p>But it was, and Sydney leaned closer, wrapping his arms around Hardin's waist. Hardin froze for only a moment, but as Sydney had sensed, he needed the touch as much as - possibly more than - Sydney did. The memories flowed, bringing back the sense of gentle, firm protectiveness Hardin had felt. It was a feeling that never arose from any of Sydney's followers; they had need of <em>his</em> protection and comfort. </p><p>But Hardin was offering it - and to <em>him</em>, not the spectre of his young brother. Sydney could hear what he did not say. <i>Whatever the source of these dreams, they trouble him so... and the comfort he takes in his lovers is not enough.</i> Hardin's hand raised to the back of Sydney's head, ruffling through his hair lightly. <i>And I... this should not feel so right, holding him. A man.. and a man I hardly know. Even if I've touched no one for years? Even if he knows me...? No, I need this as well. As much as he does. ...I have needed this. I did not know how badly I wanted to be touched...</i></p><p>But Sydney knew. Within his heart, he could hear the pangs of Hardin's body, having been given a taste of what it longed for, now realizing just how starved it had been, and for how long. It craved more, it sought to be satisfied in full. And even if Sydney had not been grateful for the kind of closeness Hardin had provided to him, he knew what Hardin's body desired, and he would have been willing to offer what solace he could. He shifted his head, pressing his lips to Hardin's throat, and felt a shudder run through him. Just as expected, Hardin's body cried out for more, and Sydney began to work his hand beneath the leather of Hardin's jacket, caressing and teasing along his back.</p><p>
  <i>Wait. Why am I... What is he... !!</i>
</p><p>There was only a moment's notice before Hardin pulled away, scrambling to his feet and causing Sydney to have to settle back himself, as he'd been leaning against Hardin for support. "By the gods, Sydney!" Hardin exclaimed. "What was that about?"</p><p>Hardin knew exactly what that was about. Perhaps not consciously, however, until that moment. "I thought you might like it," said Sydney, smirking a bit to himself.</p><p>"I told you before, I have no such interest in you!"</p><p>Oh, didn't he? Sydney glanced away from Hardin's face, downwards. "Your voice may say that, but your body says otherwise."</p><p><i>Damn it!</i> Rather foolish of Hardin to think that Sydney wouldn't have noticed that he was enjoying the attention. "It doesn't surprise me that you know exactly how to poke and prod to get whatever reaction you wish out of people."</p><p>And whatever reaction the other person might wish. Sydney shrugged. "That is part of what makes me an extraordinary lover, so I have been told." Now if Hardin would just calm down...</p><p>But instead, the response aggravated Hardin further, and the man uttered no more than a frustrated growl. <i>How </i>dare<i> he manipulate me this way? How dare he use those precious memories of Philip for some shallow seductive ploy? And while Aiden lies there behind him, helpless, unable to wake to see - Sydney can and will use anyone exactly as he wishes, won't he?</i></p><p>He had clearly overstepped his bounds. Sydney's amusement faded at once. "Hardin, I truly meant no harm-"</p><p>"No more of your little tricks," Hardin interrupted. "Not on me. I won't give you a chance again. For all I care, you can delude yourself with your gods and their prophecies, but don't delude yourself by thinking you can have me."</p><p>Suddenly Sydney found himself quite irritated as well. Tricks? Deluding himself? "If that is what you wish," he called after Hardin, as the other man turned back towards camp, "there will be no more... tricks." He couldn't quite resist. "...Sleep well, dear Hardin."</p><p>Sydney was sure that neither of them would. That had not gone as he had hoped, after such a strange beginning to their conversation, and the temporary feeling that he might have found a unique sort of kinship...</p><p>If only for the night. After all, on the morrow they would reach Leá Monde, and even before things had turned so sour, Sydney did not expect Hardin to accompany them. He had just hoped that if only for that one night, perhaps they might have taken some comfort in one another, each finding refreshment and renewal before parting. If Hardin hadn't been so <em>tense</em> about it...</p><p>Of course, Sydney had found much of his own relief in Hardin before they had touched. He had gotten what he most wanted - and given Hardin anger and frustration in return.</p><p>...Well. Hardin was far from the only man in Valendia who likely held a less than flattering opinion of Sydney. It had been a misjudgment, and it was unfortunate, but Hardin would forget, with time and distance between them. And Sydney, likewise, would move on as he always did when someone who traveled with the brethren decided their time together had ended.</p><p>In the moment, the thought did not cheer him. Letting the threads of magic disappear as he lay back down at Aiden's side, he thought of waking him - a bit of distraction. But then again, he had the feeling that this time, he would find it unsatisfying, being loved as something more god than man. </p><p>-----</p><p>The brethren were more than ready to break camp the next morning, rising and eagerly packing away their belongings, for they knew where they would be sleeping that night - and what would come only a few days hence. Though they had all learned to some degree to keep their thoughts to themselves, a sense of anticipation flowed through all of them, and Sydney found his mood much improved as he walked among them. For some, recent converts or youths who had not been able to make the journey before, it would be their first time to the fabled city of Leá Monde.</p><p>That line of thinking subdued Sydney again somewhat, remembering the events of the night prior. Hardin was still about, he noticed, and Sydney wondered if he would offer farewells as he was leaving or simply slip away, having said his goodbyes to those of the brethren to whom he had grown close, but not to Sydney himself after what he had done. Either way, it was his right. When their eyes chanced to meet through the bustle of activity, Sydney simply offered a small, hopefully reassuring smile. Hardin did not reciprocate, and did not share the good cheer of the brethren, but did not appear angry any longer. That was something of a relief.</p><p>There were enough of their number making the journey that it wasn't until some time after they set out that Sydney spotted Hardin still among them, walking aside the cart and talking to Duncan. That made him feel a bit better still. And an additional thought occurred to him that improved his spirits more so along the way - once they reached Leá Monde, there was no chance of any further awkwardness in the night, given that Sydney had his own quarters. Best to put it behind; unless Hardin spoke of it, neither would Sydney.</p><p>And Sydney most certainly was not dwelling on it, or any other particular inconsequential matter among those who traveled - his thoughts were occupied with the fact that they were drawing close to the city, the birthing place of their sect, the ancient home of their Lady. Though it was a joyous occasion for most of their party, it was always a strange mix of instinctive reactions for Sydney when they drew near enough that they could smell the scent of the sea, see what was left of the crumbling buildings. </p><p>For yes, Leá Monde was their city, their heritage. It was the city of Müllenkamp - and that was why it now lay mostly in ruins, the victim of thieves who sought to take its power for their own. In one sense, they had succeeded in their purpose, with the loss of so many lives within the city's walls. But then, they did not comprehend the truth behind the city, known only to the Lady and those few throughout the centuries who had been chosen to keep her secrets. They did not know how to claim the power they had raised, and for that the world as a whole could be grateful.</p><p>But only for a time. The visions seen in Sydney's dreams forewarned of what would happen should he fail to keep Leá Monde's secrets safe from those who sought to finish what had begun all those years past with the great quake. As surely as he could see the dome of the cathedral gleaming in the midday sun as they walked along the road now seldom traveled, he could see in his mind the dome shattered, the rift that cracked the cathedral all the way to the ancient temple beneath, where the truth and the danger of Leá Monde now lay in restless slumber. Waiting for the mortal who was so foolish as to rouse it...</p><p>But not yet. Definitely not yet. Of course Sydney's thoughts would drift to Müllenkamp herself, and the last time they'd spoken. Something was to come "soon", something he might choose before the end of times was nigh - and although she had not appeared to him again since that night, nothing of significance had happened since. Having lived and not-lived for centuries, her sense of time was occasionally unreliable. Perhaps whatever she spoke of would be revealed when they reached the city, or perhaps at the ceremony to celebrate the coming of spring.</p><p>Sydney had mixed feelings about that idea as well. On the one hand, he wanted to be prepared for whatever might come upon them. On the other, he was very tired of knowing of trouble far before it surfaced, with naught to do but prepare and worry that his preparations were not enough.</p><p>He tried to rid himself of the brooding thoughts as they approached the old gates, so close to their destination. The brethren were grateful to return to the only "home" they had left, and those for whom it was their first visit were thrilled. Everyone was cheered at the thought of the festivities to come. He would do better to follow their lead for the moment - there was no need to be concerned about anything terrible awaiting them once they'd passed within her walls. For such as himself and his little flock, despite all the dangers and mystery within Leá Monde, there was no safer place in all the land.</p><p>Though of course, there was one among them who was not of his flock. After unlocking the heavy, intact gates - to any ordinary man, an absurdity amidst the ruined wall, but to the brethren a more unnatural entryway to the city - Sydney was not surprised to find Hardin still present, as he had been with them last he looked back. He did, however, wonder why. For an unbeliever, the city held nothing but rubble. Then again...</p><p><i>Even with all this magic afoot,</i> Hardin's uneasy heart pondered, as he stood by and watched the advance guard pass through the opened gates and disappear entirely through the portal that had been opened between their posts, <i>none of them seems concerned about entering the city. And I suppose they would know better than any if there was truth to those rumors.</i></p><p>...Yes. Yes they did. Sydney would have to have a talk with him, if he was staying.</p><p>With the advance guard having reported back that the entryway was secure, Sydney remained behind on the cliffs to ensure everyone else made it safely through the portal, and then lock the gates behind them. He, being the Keeper, could reach their destination within the city under his own power.</p><p>Having done so, he placed a hand on Hardin's arm, as he was suddenly at the man's side. It was a bit cruel, perhaps, startling him in such a way - admittedly the silent curse Hardin didn't voice was amusing - but it would serve to prove Sydney's point. "You are weary, are you not? You did not sleep well last night."</p><p>Hardin simply moved his arm out from beneath Sydney's touch. "No thanks to you."</p><p>Indeed. Sydney couldn't help but smirk at the dignified rebuke. It seemed Hardin really <em>was</em> becoming accustomed to their oddities. "Anyhow, you've no need to help us; we can manage perfectly well with one less set of arms. Rest yourself, Hardin - you are our guest here."</p><p>"I thank you, but I don't mind working as the rest of your men do," Hardin told him. "I refuse to take advantage of your hospitality-"</p><p>So stubborn. It would have been obnoxious if it weren't charming, Sydney thought. But he knew these games of propriety and decorum as well as Hardin. "Ah, but that is impossible. Hospitality is not hospitality unless it is given freely, is it?" he observed with a smile. "Besides, I am no slaver - if one of my own is tired or unwell, I would likewise ask him to rest. And also, I must tell you something." The brethren had already unloaded a few of the crates from the cart, and since Hardin had been heading in that direction already, Sydney gestured. "Come, sit. You are taller than I, and staring up at you makes my neck ache."</p><p>
  <i>If he insists... I suppose. Does he even remember that I nearly shouted at him last night?</i>
</p><p>Despite Hardin's bewilderment, he obeyed, and Sydney sat down on another crate to face him. All teasing and maneuvering aside, this was a serious matter. "Doubtless you've heard the rumors about Leá Monde, have you not?"</p><p>"Who hasn't? I imagine the tales must have been all over the land before they reached me, judging by how tall they'd grown."</p><p>"Oh?" Sydney had some idea of what was likely said regarding the current state of the city, based on the truth of it, and some of the things he and the others had overheard in towns they'd passed through. "What do they say?"</p><p>"Ridiculous things," Hardin replied. "Stories better told by my childhood friends around the campfire than the grown men who told them in taverns a decade later. Tales of demons prowling the streets and hordes of the walking dead falling upon any living who go near."</p><p>"I see." As Sydney expected, there had been some embellishments as the stories made their way to Hardin. "Well then, you can see already that these tales were exaggerated ever so slightly."</p><p>"Indeed." They were, after all, sitting within Leá Monde now, quite safely.</p><p>"However," Sydney continued, "there is a mite of truth within them. The Dark runs strong here in Leá Monde, as the others have told you, and many strange things occur here - things that are not terribly different from the stories you have been told. The dead can walk, given reason; and certain fey creatures occasionally do make an appearance, though rarely, and never in the parts of the city the brethren and I make use of."</p><p>There was no need for Hardin's heart to speak; the look on his face said it all. "Surely you must be joking."</p><p>Sydney shook his head, growing more serious. It would not do for Hardin to believe the city harmless, lest he become careless. "Hardin, I speak the truth. Leá Monde can be a dangerous place for those who are not well-acquainted with the Dark. Even the brethren do not venture into certain areas without a very good reason. And you, skilled as you may be with a sword - you would be near helpless within these walls." And given his skepticism, his passing familiarity with the Dark at best... "I would ask that you never venture beyond these few rooms, the open streets above, and the keep alone - and never set foot outside the keep at night."</p><p>Hardin just continued to look at him, in that same dubious way. <i>Faith in gods and prophecies I could understand, but walking dead? Unearthly creatures? Perhaps he is mad after all.</i></p><p>"Now, Hardin," Sydney pointed out, "you have seen many unusual things in the past weeks, have you not? Things you would never have believed, had I not shown them to you?"</p><p><i>...I certainly can't deny that. And it is not so great a request.</i> "...Very well then, I agree."</p><p>"Very good." Hardin did not yet believe him, it was clear, and so Sydney reminded him once again. "As I told you once before, your obedience is more important to your own well-being than to mine - do keep that in mind, won't you?"</p><p>And they would have to leave it there for the time being, because Domenic had just approached with a question for Sydney, and there were other things that needed to be seen to now that they had returned, with a ritual in only a few days' time.</p><p>In fact, Sydney didn't have a moment to think about it again until the daylight was fading, and just before dinner, he spotted Hardin entering the keep from the streets beyond. So he had been out. Presumably, since he had returned unharmed, with nothing seeming to have troubled him, he had been following Sydney's instructions despite his skepticism. Perhaps he had learned his lesson after the incident in the village. Sydney certainly hoped so - and that the lack of any unusual happenings in Leá Monde did not encourage Hardin to put his words to the test. Better for Hardin to think him mad than to allow the man to unwittingly stumble upon something deadly.</p><p>That night was the first night in weeks that Sydney had a mattress to sleep upon, and since his followers had their own, he chose for the moment to enjoy having it all to himself. Immortal he might have been, but his body didn't always act as such; his ensorcelled limbs were not fatigued from the journey, but the warmth of a hearth was more than welcome, and his neck and his back appreciated lying on something softer and more even than the ground, with no pebbles trapped beneath the blankets in irritating places. He laid down, sighed as he stretched out, looked up at the roughly-hewn ceiling casting shallow shadows in the gentle flickering of the firelight. Not quite as familiar as his childhood rooms, nowhere near as luxurious, but his room within the keep of Leá Monde was the first place that had ever been entirely his own, and it was a comfort to return.</p><p>And to be entirely alone to ponder recent happenings... and those to come. While traveling, he had to remain available for those who followed him - answering questions, giving instruction, offering reassurance. Always strong and steady, showing confidence so that the others would likewise not falter. But the truth was... there was a great deal of truth he did not know. And some truths he did not care for. He knew that once he closed his eyes, the dreams would come again, the visions would return before he even slept. But here, alone, he could let his guard down, let himself think about what he had seen without strict composure.</p><p>...Which turned his thoughts to Hardin, and the previous night's improprieties. Surely Hardin understood. He had been a soldier, he knew that a leader showing weakness or uncertainty would cause those who followed to lose heart. It was possible he was placing too much trust in Hardin - despite having shared an oddly intimate moment, Sydney hardly knew him, after all. But then again, he had gotten a very real sense of his character that first night, and Hardin had lived up to that sense so far. In fact, it was a bit odd just how comfortable it was between them.</p><p>Until the night before, anyhow. Well, Hardin seemed to be planning to stay with them while they remained in the city, so he would have some time to think. And to observe, and think some more. And perhaps act, if he managed to determine what it was he most wanted, or needed. Very likely it was not Sydney in particular. Why should it be?</p><p>Though thinking back to the night before, Sydney found his breath caught just a little when he thought of the way Hardin had described how he might have woken him, the way he'd held him. And then, in a different way, remembering the feel of Hardin's throat beneath his lips, the shiver that had run through him... That, however, was not as unique as simply being held, and in a protective manner. A pity that it wouldn't be happening again. Even if he hadn't ruined it, while it had been nice, it was also self-indulgent and unnecessary.</p><p>And thus there was no reason to think about it, and very little reason to dwell on Hardin at all. The spring ritual was coming, and for now at least, the man was not even one of them, merely a guest among them. There were numerous things to be thinking about at the moment that were more relevant.</p><p>His thoughts drifted there regardless as his eyes closed, allowing the dreams to creep back. His room in the keep, familiar and warm and soft as it was, seemed foreign and harsh in comparison.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Home. He was home.</p>
<p>Dreams or not, Leá Monde was the one place in Valendia where Sydney and the other followers of Müllenkamp could simply relax. Neither the king's nor the cardinal's knights would chase them there, there was no concern about speaking too freely. The library held the accumulated history and research and wisdom - and idle entertainment - of generations of high priests before Sydney. Their lights could burn brightly, and their Dark...</p>
<p>It was a natural force, after all, and Sydney its Keeper. He could feel it bubbling below the crumbling streets and running through the cracked stone, flowing like lifeblood, keeping the dead city alive. Perhaps it should have been unsettling, to feel so much of the Dark - but in a sense, it was a parallel of his own body. The city, like himself, chosen for a greater purpose, was a kindred spirit. And all too familiar, though he hadn't laid eyes on it until he had taken up this honorable burden. It had been late in his youth, not so many years past and yet a lifetime. But there had been other lifetimes, the Lady had told him; he had walked the streets with different names, different faces. Sometimes, she seemed even to imply that he had been there at its founding... which held other implications, but Sydney's soul shied away from contemplating too much. </p>
<p>Presently, he had this face, and had taken this name. These broken streets were the streets he walked, and this current age had plenty of troubles without dredging up others. The Dark ran through him and the city, whispering and giggling and calling to its kin. Leá Monde was almost an extension of himself; it was an exhilarating, glorious sensation to walk within her, and feel her in her entirety.</p>
<p>Yet at the same time, quite humbling. Who was he, the boy who had become a man named Sydney Losstarot, that he should be set in such a place as this, at such a time as this, for such a purpose as this? For all that the Dark caused him to feel as though the whole large city was a part of him, the scope both physical and historical made him feel very small - very human.</p>
<p>He had very little time to attend to being human, however. The brethren needed a high priest for not only the upcoming ritual, but to direct them and guide them and teach them. Within the city, it was easier to draw upon the Dark than outside, thus someone without a great deal of innate magical talent could learn the feel of a spell faster, become familiar with it, before applying that familiarity to draw the Dark elsewhere. </p>
<p>In fact, there were two among them who were new converts, not yet baptized into the Dark. Sydney had cautioned them from the start that they must be respectful, not eager, and their hearts told him that their anticipation was not a lust for the power of the Dark, but for belonging to the ancient gods, joining with the brethren in service. They were prepared, and that simple ritual could take place any time. Sydney suggested the day before the spring rites, so that they might play a part in the ceremonies, albeit small and simple - and to be baptized within the city itself would be an honor.</p>
<p>Which left only one man in the entirety of the once-great city who would not partake in the rites. Predictably, Hardin had ignored Sydney's designating him as a guest, and the very next day after their arrival, he was helping to clear one of the hallways of debris from the minor earthquakes that still shook the city from time to time. Sydney merely shook his head, somewhat exasperated, and said nothing. It was apparently against Hardin's nature to accept generosity without reciprocation - or possibly to relax. Either way, Sydney knew better than to try to make a man go against the leanings of his own soul.</p>
<p>If only Hardin could learn that lesson as well.</p>
<p>Within the safety of Leá Monde, Sydney had taken leave of the thick traveler's cloak at the first opportunity. There was less need for warmth, no need for disguise, and though he had learned to manage with his unusual fingers, his arms and shoulders still made wearing such garments a bit awkward.  In spite of Hardin's careful but clumsy guarding of his thoughts, Sydney had noticed his reaction at once the first time Hardin had seen him thus with his back turned.</p>
<p>
  <i>By the gods - no wonder they would kill him.</i>
</p>
<p>His head still turned away, Sydney had smirked. "Are you offended at the sight, Hardin?"</p>
<p>Only a momentary pause while Hardin recovered from the realization Sydney had heard. "Not I. You know that I - forgive me, but you know that I do not believe in your gods. Neither do I believe in their saint."</p>
<p>"As I would have thought." Sydney turned, still smirking, to face Hardin rather than the window through which he'd been absently gazing out upon the city. "And neither am I offended. A lack of belief is more wholesome, more honest, than unquestioning faith in the tale most pleasing."</p>
<p>"Hm." Hardin seemed not to have expected quite that reception, but considered it, and nodded. "I suppose it is."</p>
<p>His footsteps had paused upon seeing Sydney at the window, presumably in surprise, but he did not immediately excuse himself, either. "Have you some need of me?" Sydney asked.</p>
<p>Hardin shook his head. "I was only passing by. I apologize for interrupting."</p>
<p>"To consider your presence an interruption, I would have had to have been doing something specific in the first place," Sydney assured him, leaning back upon the wall with arms crossed comfortably. "All is well. Or so I have assumed - how do you find Leá Monde?"</p>
<p>"It is..." Something darker swirled for a moment in his heart, but Hardin guarded it well enough that Sydney couldn't quite make it out before it dissolved. "...Sad, I suppose, that so many lost their lives, and now it is deserted. But never having seen it before the quake, I find it peaceful."</p>
<p>Sydney nodded. "It is, for us. This is our inheritance, the city of Müllenkamp," he explained. "None but ourselves know how to enter - and so here we can rest, knowing that we are safe from those who would persecute us."</p>
<p>"And thus, you don't need to hide... that mark."</p>
<p>"Exactly." Sydney lifted a finger to gesture slightly, inviting Hardin to come closer, since he did not appear to have been in a rush to do anything specific either. "Did you know," he began as Hardin obliged and came over, leaning back on the wall beside him, "that the followers of St. Iocus themselves once used the mark upon my back?"</p>
<p>"Really..." </p>
<p>"If Iocus's sheep had any knowledge of their own history," Sydney stated, "they would likely find it quite appropriate. Centuries ago, as they began to persecute our forebears, their inquisitors branded those they viewed as heretics by carving the Rood Inverse into their flesh. The greater the sin, the greater the mark."</p>
<p>Hardin raised an eyebrow, taking Sydney's implication. "And you, leader of all heretics as far as they are concerned."</p>
<p>Sydney offered him a sly look. "I will bear the mark of all their so-called sins just as I commit them - willingly and without shame."</p>
<p>That got a chuckle out of Hardin. "Of course you would."</p>
<p>Leá Monde must have truly been having a relaxing effect on Hardin - Sydney didn't believe he'd ever seen Hardin smile wholeheartedly before. Always before, there had been a weariness of the soul about him, a sorrow that clipped the wings of his mirth. ...Something about the expression made his eyes particularly charming.</p>
<p>"Anyhow." Sydney turned the subject both from his own thoughts and that tangent. "I would not bore you unwillingly with the history of religious practices you do not even follow. I'm glad to know you also find our city restful."</p>
<p>"Very much. Like you and the brethren, there has been no safety for me for... a long time." There was that swirl of something darker again, but again it fled, and Hardin gave Sydney another small smile, equally charming. "I could hardly recall what it was like to simply sit by a river, listening only to the sounds of water and wind."</p>
<p>Which suggested what that darkness was that was still clinging to him, though it had receded. And when Hardin began to open his mouth to speak further, Sydney did not need to read his heart. "Hardin," Sydney admonished him pre-emptively. "Please do not thank me again. There is no need. There never has been."</p>
<p>"Hmph. You said a moment ago that honest disbelief was better than blind faith," Hardin reminded him. "And I honestly don't believe that you don't deserve to be thanked."</p>
<p>Sydney pretended to wince. "Using my own words against me? I was not suggesting you should be so cruel."</p>
<p>This time, Hardin outright grinned. And yes, Sydney found that it was an entirely endearing expression on the man. "In that case," Hardin said, "and since I am your guest for now, I will do as you ask."</p>
<p>And he did. The conversation lapsed, but into a comfortable sort of silence - just the two of them, there together, still smiling to themselves. Hardin had turned his gaze elsewhere, and after a moment, added, "...Besides. You know."</p>
<p>"Yes, I do." Sydney glanced back at him, and stifled the urge to rest a hand on Hardin's arm. He had promised, that strange night, no more suggestions, and he didn't want it to be misinterpreted as more then reassurance. ...He also wasn't sure that it would be entirely misinterpretation if so. </p>
<p>He still wasn't sure that it would be entirely unwelcome, either, particularly after further enounters over the next few days, crossing paths for casual conversation as the spring drew nearer, occasionally glancing in Hardin's direction during meals or other times of fellowship in hopes of seeing that smile again, only to find Hardin's eyes lingering... but he <em>had</em> promised.</p>
<p>It was, in fact, a bit absurd. If Hardin had been one of his followers, Sydney could easily have broached the subject. It would have been perfectly natural to say simply that he understood, solitude had been difficult, that man was not meant to be alone. That mutual physical pleasure was a gift the gods had given them, intended for their enjoyment while their souls were bound to flesh - and despite the strict teachings of the prominent religion of the land, the gods cared not who they might enjoy it with, so long as it was an exchange in which both found pleasure. And, if the follower in question had such a desire, Sydney would have been willing to guide them through that self-discovery.</p>
<p>But Hardin was not one of them. Though he had seen the Dark at work, he still had no interest in gods, or what works they had wrought and why - or perhaps it was anger about certain of those works that caused him to reject any sort of faith in them, in spite of the things he had seen. This sort of reasoning would have no effect, except perhaps to make him more defensive rather than setting a troubled mind at ease. He might again wonder if Sydney was compelling him, and he might leave them prematurely, before his body and spirit had recovered in full from the hardships he had endured.</p>
<p>In fact, Sydney had to admit that even if he had made no promises at all, he would likely have said nothing. Even if Hardin did not leave outright, to point out his preoccupation would risk ending the amiable conversations they shared, and the peace Hardin was beginning to reclaim. No longer would he smile in such a way. </p>
<p>And although Sydney originally had assumed Hardin was not going to become a part of their fellowship, he was uncertain whether he hoped he would or not. In a sense, the conversations they had were so refreshing for Sydney specifically <em>because</em> Hardin had no faith - Sydney could say the most irreverent things, speak blunt truths about the world without having to justify the will of the gods and their eventual plan, which he himself was not privy to. Hardin, having seen so much of the world's cruelty, understood, and thought no less of him for his occasional cynicism. It was good to have someone to speak to for whom his words did not reflect one way or another on the gods they served.</p>
<p>But if he did not decide that he believed, if he did not become a follower of Müllenkamp's mysteries, then presumably Hardin would at some time opt to leave them.</p>
<p>...Regardless, the same basic truths he might have offered one of his followers applied to his own concerns as well. What would be, would be. Making assumptions or predictions would serve no purpose but to disappoint. Though the gods were capable of coaxing any happening into becoming a part of the greater good, each man must be allowed to choose his own path. Müllenkamp had in fact served the purpose of high priestess for him and reminded him of these things numerous times. Possibly he and Hardin had something in common, for at times he found the platitudes lacking and unreliable as well.</p>
<p>And it was mildly curious, he thought again the night before the spring rites, as he accompanied his two new converts to the ruins of the ancient temple of Kiltia beneath the cathedral. Müllenkamp had lived there, died there, within these same walls - it was her home, even more than Sydney's - yet after coming to him so frequently during the journey, she had not appeared to him again as of yet. Even as Sydney performed the baptisms, gently incising the mark of the Rood in the palms of young Sara and steadfast Miklaus, healing the slight wounds once the Dark had tasted of them, he wondered where she was, why she had not shown herself to him.</p>
<p>But on the morrow, of course she would appear, and they would share in a communion just between the two of them. Not an opportune time to ask questions, but she would provide what answers were permitted, one way or another.</p>
<p>-----</p>
<p>Before that, however, there was another night, and another chance for the dreams to come - as they surely would given the season, and given the powers he had brought forth that evening for the baptism.</p>
<p>This time, they were joined by another. </p>
<p>He was in a chapel he knew well, but had had no occasion to visit for some time - the chapel at the Graylands residence belonging to Duke Bardorba. Something was different. An imbalance in the elements, a sense of urgency. </p>
<p>And then, he was nowhere, but he could see the man he had seen before. Familiar, though he had never seen the face. The context was his point of recognition; the way that he <em>couldn't</em> recognize the man made him unmistakable. Only the strong arms of a swordsman, a lean torso...</p>
<p>"Sydney!"</p>
<p>And he was back in the chapel, and he looked to see who had called his name. He knew the voice, but...</p>
<p>Of course. He hadn't known Hardin's voice for long, and never had he voiced aloud such alarm. But now he rushed forward...</p>
<p>And with a shriek, the Dark flowed forth, began to rise from the ruins.</p>
<p>Sydney woke, his eyes staring up at the ceiling of his room in the keep, with the faint embers in the hearth casting only the barest of shadows to dance across the stone. His face was dry this time, the visions this time more startling than upsetting, and he made himself take a deep breath.</p>
<p>He did not know what the meaning was of this newest addition, just as he was unclear about many of the visions no matter how many times they came. He was growing more suspicious, however, that the swordsman he never quite managed to see was indeed to take up his mantle once his own role had been played to the finish. Someone whom he would encounter at the appointed time, to carry out the tasks he could not.</p>
<p>And among all the things he did not know about this newest vision, one thing he could now be almost certain of - John Hardin was to be there at the end, when his time was near.</p>
<p>...Was it possible that Hardin was the man he had been seeing in these visions, night after night? Could he be the one chosen...?</p>
<p>Could that have been what Müllenkamp was suggesting was coming "soon"?</p>
<p>The thought troubled Sydney, rather than giving him relief, and for multiple reasons. For one, the things he had foreseen might be much nearer than he had thought. For another, if these visions were to come to pass soon, Hardin was most certainly not ready to take on such a responsibility, having never so much as touched the Dark.</p>
<p>For another, less pragmatic and more personal, Sydney had only an inkling and his own estimations of what Hardin had already suffered in his mortal life. True that the Dark was drawn to suffering, which meant that it could come to Hardin easily... but it attracted suffering as well. Being the Keeper was not a burden Sydney would willingly pass to anyone, though it must be done eventually.</p>
<p>But then... though Hardin currently lacked any sort of faith in the gods they served, Sydney suspected he had the character necessary to take up such a role. He was selfless and honorable, insisted upon sharing their work, no matter how many times he was told it was unnecessary. He was fiercely protective of those he cared for - and those he barely knew, judging from the way he had charged into battle on the brethren's behalf, unwise a decision as it had been. He was... warm, and comforting, in an earnest way that did not come so naturally to Sydney. He might do well in the role of counsel for those who followed.</p>
<p>Sydney closed his eyes, and reminded himself again. What was to be would be. Whoever Hardin would become, for whatever reason he apparently would stay on with the brethren, it was not <i>his</i> decision to make. </p>
<p>He was not even sure that he had been permitted to make that decision for himself.</p>
<p>...What was to be would be, and the gods would work all things for the greater good. Müllenkamp herself had said that the gods had more for him in this life. That he had the right to choose.</p>
<p>He wondered if it was too late for himself. ...Or if it was not too late for himself, if that meant it was too late for Hardin.</p>
<p>-----</p>
<p>Given the day ahead, it mattered little that Sydney did not sleep much. The rites to welcome the spring began in the darkness before dawn, and his habit was to spend the hours beforehand in prayer and meditation. His dreams and the questions they put before him recurred often enough in his thoughts to make it difficult to clear his mind, but there had been other occasions when more urgent troubles than these threatened. The gods had always granted him the peace and the focus he required, and by the time the sky began to lighten faintly in the east, Sydney was again calm and grateful for their providence.</p>
<p>Though much of the preparations had been made in advance, there were still a handful of things to attend to before it could begin. There were ceremonial robes for the occasion, as well as a blessing and encouragement for those who would stand for the elements as Sydney stood for the Dark. Those who had taken part before knew what they were to do, those who had more recently come to Müllenkamp had prepared themselves, and the ritual began as intended.</p>
<p>It was not hard for Sydney to keep his concerns about the visions he had seen out of mind once it was underway, for he had other things to focus on. Though his position as the Müllenkamp sect's high priest bore much responsibility, such rituals as these, as well as the baptisms the previous night, were a part of his duties that he thoroughly enjoyed. To be allowed the honor of speaking the ancient ceremonial words that had passed through the centuries, to lead the others to partake of the powers that had forged the world... and to silently remind one of his newly baptized of the words, speaking them in her mind when she struggled to remember the response, so that she did not stumble. They were all children of the gods, some younger than others - some just learning to walk, in a manner of speaking. It was a delight and a blessing to be able to witness their first steps and assist them, to catch them before they fell and send them on their way again.</p>
<p>The ritual was a celebration of balance, and with Sydney stood five others, each representing one of the elements that ran through the world with the Dark. Each had their turn to be brought forth, their governing deity praised for the benefits and comfort they brought to all that lived. Between the optimism of the ritual itself and the joy that radiated from the brethren as it progressed - and Sydney's occasional need to focus on the words in ancient Kildean, for he did not speak it regularly - Sydney found his worries slipping away, lost in the exhilaration of the ceremony and the magic and the wonders of the gods.</p>
<p>He had almost forgotten about the dreams until the ceremony was over. In the faint light of early dawn, as those seated around him rose to break the previous day's fast, he spotted Hardin standing a short distance away against the wall. Presumably having watched, as Sydney had told him the day before that he was welcome to. For one with no faith, he had always been curious about their ways and beliefs. He had been learning bits and pieces...</p>
<p>It was a holiday, Sydney reminded himself, and put it out of his mind. Certainly nothing dire was to take place there and then, and with a heart filled to overflowing with praise, the visions now seemed very far away. Surely the gods would offer any important revelations as they were needed.</p>
<p>After they had all shared an abundant breakfast, the daylight hours were to be spent as each of them pleased - a day of naught but peace and relaxation. For Sydney, that meant spending a portion of the time in solitary meditation upon the city walls, where he could look out over the city below. As well, he could see the brethren as they wandered casually through the accessible portions of the city streets, talking and laughing and simply enjoying each other's company, adorned with the flowers and woven wreaths that were customary to exchange for the day. It could not always be so, but for the moment they were all safe and happy. That in itself was another blessing to him, to know that those who followed him were well cared for.</p>
<p>As was the one who did not follow him as of yet, if a bit bewildered. Sydney happened to cross paths with Hardin a bit later, and found the man wearing one of the flowery wreaths about his neck also - and not thinking about guarding his thoughts in his preoccupation with the one who had placed it there. <i>If I was already content, and she said I should smile more... Does that mean she wants me to be happier still? ...Is that implying something?</i></p>
<p>Sydney had to stifle a laugh. Not only was Hardin's innocent confusion somewhat amusing, but he and Kirrienne had similar interests, so it would seem, for he was also in favor of seeing Hardin's smile more often. Perfectly reasonable, then, to offer Hardin another wreath from those with which he himself had been adorned by his followers, and tell him that she was right.</p>
<p>Seeing Hardin among them threatened to allow Sydney's concerns to slip back in, but at dusk, there was more ritual - or at least tradition - to come. Perhaps there he would find some sort of answer. If nothing else, it might just have been his favorite part of the ceremonies.</p>
<p>It had not been all been a part of the ceremonies for long, of course. The burning of the flower garlands in the fire that had burned the whole day long, the feasting and fellowship, those had endured through the centuries. Somewhere along the way during the evening's festivities, someone had thought to have music and dancing, as it was after all a celebration. The Lady, having been a dancer herself, had nothing but encouragement for her high priests to make it so, and over time a traditional dance had evolved to be done around the fire, ordered but simple enough for any who wished to learn the steps and join in, to offer their praise to the gods through the discipline and grace of their bodies. Those who lacked that particular grace might sound the drums and the flute to make the music, each according to their ability. That much had developed over several generations.</p>
<p>Sydney was uncertain if the dance that came after was something that had been done in the past at all, or if dancing with the Lady alone was an honor only for this particular high priest.</p>
<p>It hadn't been entirely intentional the first time. As was often the case when it came to Müllenkamp, she was unpredictable. As was often the case with Sydney when he was younger, he was impulsive. The traditional dance had ended, but the drums still beat, he still felt the exultation of the praise they offered to the gods, he still moved... and then there she was, in the fire, smiling at him, approving, sharing in his exultation. For she not only had felt the same, but in the same way. And though it was not customary, neither of them cared much for custom - not when the alternative led to further closeness amidst the service of their gods, and with such delight.</p>
<p>So it had been, and so it had been again, and this was, after all, how traditions came to be. By this time, it was expected, and had even developed some mystery of its own among them.</p>
<p>It all began with the traditional dance. As the sun was setting, the instruments were brought forth. All was prepared, and from within the corridor of the keep where Sydney waited with anticipation, he heard the drums begin to sound. Initially it was a simple, regular rhythm, easy for those who were lacking in musical inclination to keep time.  Then, the more adept drummers began to layer their own individual rhythms atop that basic beat. Other instruments had been used throughout the ages; two among their number at the moment had learned the flute before their coming, and could now put that skill to use for the glory of the gods. Now, they waited for Sydney's arrival. </p>
<p>Sydney came forth into the courtyard, slowly approached the fire, his footsteps keeping time with the drumbeat almost by instinct rather than conscious thought. Conscious thought was, in fact, not something to concern himself with at present. Much like his movements, his meditations were instinctual, habitual, as he considered the flames, the seasons, the centuries that had passed and all those who had gone before, in the hands of the gods and serving as the gods' hands themselves. Even in his mind, his gratitude was not expressed in the words of any language that had ever been spoken aloud.</p>
<p>Before the gods and his Lady and all those who had gone before, he bowed deeply. And then the flutes began to play, and Sydney began the dance.</p>
<p>It started with only one, a simple series of steps and a clap of the hands, then another dancer might join, and one or two at a time, they fell into a formation, ever-changing pairs as they danced in between and around one another. All of them who now danced had practiced the steps during the winter, making certain that they knew the way. Sydney saw each of their faces as they passed, and his prayers and gratitude were lifted for them in turn - young Garret's excitement over participating in the dance for the first time; Landrik, who had been with them for many years and knew each step by heart, for whom it was as a peaceful meditation; Marcellia's face, slightly flushed from both exertion and excitement, for she had thought herself slightly ill in recent weeks, and that she would be unlikely to dance, only to discern that she was carrying a child. The gods knew and cherished each of them, and particularly when so deep in rapport with the gods, so did Sydney. </p>
<p>As more joined in the dancing, the beat of the drums grew faster, and the exhilaration of the dance greater. How could Sydney's smile and his joy not grow with each rotation, with each new partner who danced around and past him? Giving himself over fully, he turned his face to the heavens, closed his eyes, not needing their sight to See the men and women he danced among.</p>
<p>But it could not last forever, the drums began to slow, and with them the dancers. They slipped away as they had entered the dance, one or two at a time, until the drums had returned to their initial slow, steady beat and Sydney was, as in the beginning, standing alone before the fire.</p>
<p>And yet not alone at all, for the Lady now stood before him, wearing a smile that no doubt matched his own. <i>And now, it is for us, little rabbit.</i></p>
<p><i>I have no intention,</i> Sydney replied wordlessly, pulling a silken veil from where it had been tucked into a pocket of the trousers he wore, <i>of running from this, Lady.</i></p>
<p>
  <i>Shall we, then?</i>
</p>
<p>Sydney smiled even wider, raising his arms just as she did, silk fluttering around them both. <i>We shall.</i></p>
<p>Hers was a different kind of dance, of a sort intended to entice and arouse. This was not something Sydney was unfamiliar with, and he had taken easily to mirroring her movements, swaying hips and graceful arms, whirling as their silks trailed behind and around them. But in this moment, at least, it was not a show to seduce anyone, but rather a celebration of the bond they shared, a sign of her favor towards him.</p>
<p>And as he was in no need of such a sign, at times that sign was intended more for the benefit of others. As the dance came so naturally to them both, and there was no need to use their breath to speak aloud, her thoughts entered his thoughts seamlessly. <i>He can see me.</i></p>
<p>She did not have to name names. Sydney knew precisely who she meant at once, and for a moment his smile faltered. <i>...Why? He is not one of us.</i></p>
<p><i>Is he not?</i> Her own smile never dimmed - if anything it grew brighter.</p>
<p><i>I never can tell,</i> Sydney admitted, <i>if time runs in the same singular direction for you as it does for us.</i></p>
<p><i>Ahh, so you </i>do<i> know.</i></p>
<p>Then his interpretation of the vision had been correct. But then, did that mean his other, more specific suspicion was as well? <i>Was his coming what you spoke of, when you told me 'soon'? Is he the one I have seen?</i></p>
<p>
  <i>He is one you have seen.</i>
</p>
<p>Despite the dance, Sydney spared a breath to let it out as a quiet breath of exasperation, no doubt covered handily by the drums. He could not help but be amused, though, in these circumstances. She was very good at not answering questions. He had others waiting. <i>So he is to become one of us. The gods suggest he will stay with us until the end times. But you will tell me no more?</i></p>
<p>
  <i>Would you not rather find out for yourself?</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I would know if the appointed time is at hand. And if so, what I must do with him.</i>
</p>
<p><i>There is a time for all things. As for what you must do?</i> Conveniently enough, the dance dictated that they turn now, and she gave him a smirk over her shoulder as they turned their backs to one another. <i>Why not look closer...?</i></p>
<p>The transit of their dance had led him around to the far side of the fire, and now that he had turned from it, Sydney lifted his eyes and found that Hardin was seated directly in front of where he stood, watching him. Watching both of them, assuming Müllenkamp spoke truly, and it would be absurd to think that she did not.</p>
<p>But he hardly needed his talent to know that mostly, Hardin was watching him. And although Hardin had no faith, the manner in which Hardin was watching him was not unlike those who had come to hear him preach in the villages, when it had still been relatively safe to do so. He watched Sydney with a look of startled admiration, reverent awe tempered with fear... and a deep, desperate longing which in Hardin's case had nothing to do with the peace and harmony offered by the gods. Sydney found it was... very compelling.</p>
<p>Their eyes met for a long moment, lingering, and the heartseeing was largely inconsequential, for both were thinking the same thoughts, beyond words. Perhaps Hardin sensed this, or perhaps it was only his own internal aversions to those thoughts; he quickly closed his eyes.</p>
<p><i>...Well?</i> Müllenkamp's voice again. <i>What do you think?</i></p>
<p>
  <i>...I think he needs a night or two, and perhaps the intervening day, of being fucked into a mattress before he drives the both of us mad.</i>
</p>
<p>Having been the subject and the originator of plenty of lewd talk in her own time, the revered Lady was not the slightest bit offended. <i>And...?</i></p>
<p>Sydney was not sure what he actually <em>should</em> have been seeing in the man who sat before him, face subtly averted, eyes squeezed shut. <i>What am I looking for?</i></p>
<p>
  <i>An excellent question.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Do you have an equally excellent answer, Lady, or is this some sort of riddle?</i>
</p>
<p><i>In a way...</i> Again they turned as the dance dictated, and were facing each other once more. <i>He is needed, but the answer is one you must give for yourself.</i></p>
<p><i>Ah yes.</i> Sydney was not certain, as was often the case when he tried to get clarity from her, if it was his own ignorance of the nature of things or intentional misdirection on her part that left him not knowing what they were talking about. But he did his best to try to fit the pieces together. <i>An answer I give myself, regarding what is to become of him. And you spoke of a choice I must make.</i> If Hardin was to be his successor, however, or fulfill some other important role... <i>And what of him? If I am to give the answer...</i></p>
<p>
  <i>He also must make a choice,</i> she replied. <i>Even things that are fated may not be unavoidable.</i>
</p>
<p>
  Sydney did not reply. His own experience had told him this seemed to be true, yet the consequences of avoiding one's destiny, or turning from the path one was meant to take, could be dire.
</p>
<p>
  <i>There will be time for pondering these things.</i> She gave him a softer smile, no hint of mischief this time. <i>I promise.</i>
</p>
<p>
  In this instance at least, her sense of time was perfect - the dance was drawing to a close, and Sydney closed his eyes for a moment in silent gratitude. <i>...Thank you, Lady.</i>
</p>
<p>
  He opened them again; a half-turn, a flourish of the silk between the two of them, and she disappeared.
</p>
<p>
  So there were things to think about. Riddles to be answered, decisions to be made, conversations that must take place. Less ominously, comfortable mattresses.
</p>
<p>
  And on this particular night, Sydney thought, stepping back out of the light, looking around at the brethren as they began to rise from their places around the fire, there was to be a feast. And wine. Most definitely there would be wine, for which he was grateful.
</p>
<p>
  She had promised that they had time. For the moment, he breathed deeply of the fragrant smoke that rose from the fire as the others came forth to toss their flower garlands into the blaze - and then, much like the symbolic gesture, let it go. Even had he wanted to retreat to contemplate these things, the night was not yet over. Indeed, the sun had barely set.
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In spite of the disquieting implications and uncertainty caused by the previous night's visions and his conversation with the Lady during the dance, the joyousness of the spring rites managed to dominate Sydney's mood well into the evening. The focus on hope and rebirth and the gods' faithfulness ran through all of Müllenkamp's followers at such a time. Though the ceremony had ended, the musicians still played, the people still danced beside the fire, across from the tables set with plenty.</p>
<p>Even had their mood not been infectious, and particularly to a heartseer, Sydney had spent much of the last day and night in peaceful meditation, doing his best to cleanse his heart of worry and doubt. He had been a vessel to be filled with gratitude and the love of the gods. That vessel still retained some of these things, and was refreshed now by the happiness of his kin.</p>
<p>...The vessel had also been refilled with several glasses of wine, to be fair, he thought with a slightly crooked smile, holding up his cup again as Kermiak passed by with another bottle. But it was of no consequence. They were safe here. They were happy. Nothing could harm them. And he deserved to be spared of any inkling of serious thought for the night. </p>
<p>High priest though he might have been, and so recently asserted as such, now that the rites were over, he could relax. Relax, surrounded by his dear friends, his true family, who adored him and whom he adored in turn, under the open, starlit sky. At the moment, in fact, those immediately surrounding him were a few of those whom he had known more intimately; Aiden was nestled against his shoulder where they sat against the wall, Jared was at his other side, arm around both their shoulders. Gwynn's head had been in his lap for a time, before Louis had come by and the two of them had disappeared together. Branla did not drink, but she was a steady hand to pour, teasing the lot of them as to who was most likely to need help finding their beds later. </p>
<p>Sydney was absolutely <em>smothered</em> in affection and adoration and contentment. Truly, truly, he was blessed. Possibly too blessed. Other couples among them had begun to slip away into the night, like Gwynn and Louis had, and it was a pleasant thought, but in his case, complicated. He might have taken any of these beloved or a handful of others to his bed that night, but the decision would be a difficult one. He had begun pondering how they might react to the suggestion of the whole lot of them joining him... but then again, he might just fall asleep right there. He was rather comfortable as he was, warm and calm and occasionally receiving kisses from any and all of them, occasionally laughing with them at the tall tales and indelicate songs given voice by the firelight as the night grew deeper. It was, he thought absently, the closest mortal equivalent to communing with the gods - and being a mortal pleasure, meant for mortal bodies and souls, it came with far less unpleasant aftereffects.</p>
<p>Yes, he loved them all. Whether he knew only their soul, or their body and soul, hearing their hearts sing as they passed by was a precious gift. ...And quite probably, he admitted, he did not need any more of the wine.</p>
<p>Every now and then, however, he was reminded that there was one among them whose heart was not glad. Not one of the brethren - not yet, anyway, and Sydney was determined not to concern himself with that tonight - but still present. Surrounded as he was by his very cheerful followers, it was easy to miss the gloom emanating from Hardin, where he sat by himself in the furthest corner on the far side of the fire. In fact he was only reminded of it in passing, when one of those who had befriended Hardin passed close by, and he could sense a bubble of concern amidst the otherwise uninterrupted joy. Padric passed by, grinning at the sight of Sydney nearly piled upon by his consorts, but there was a light, pensive, preoccupied note lingering about him. Kirrienne came to dance with them earlier in the evening, then to sit for a time when the dancing had mostly ceased, but she occasionally aimed a glance back towards that corner where Hardin sat alone. After a drink or two herself, her thoughts were not so closely guarded, and he heard the whisper; <i>Should I ask Sydney to see that all is well?</i> Though she never voiced it aloud, it drew Sydney's attention enough that he also looked.</p>
<p>It was puzzling - why did Hardin even still remain in the courtyard with the rest of them, when he so clearly was not enjoying the festivities? He too had been drinking, but rather than lighter, as in Sydney's case, his mood had grown darker and darker. Likely Sydney was the only one who could guess at why... or perhaps Padric, if Padric had stopped by to say a few words to him. Although Hardin was practiced enough by this time to keep his thoughts to himself under ordinary circumstances, that discipline was failing beneath the onslaught of multiple drinks, and Sydney's talent was much stronger than Padric's. He could hear Hardin's silent frustration easily from all the way across the courtyard, if he but thought to turn his attention that direction. </p>
<p>
  <i>Why can I not stop thinking about such things? I don't truly mean them... He is a man, no woman. It's only that I've been so long without any sort of kindness, and he has been kind... And then he has to look at me that way he does. I need this out of my mind. I just want some peace... Why can I not have a moment's peace...?</i>
</p>
<p>Poor Hardin. Poor, dear, gentle Hardin. Hardin, who had been alone so long, and now that he had the opportunity to indulge his neglected body's needs, he was afraid of his own desires. Sydney closed his eyes, sighing softly. Everyone around them was lit up with happiness. Hardin could find such happiness, and relief from his frustrations, if he did not refuse the obvious solution.</p>
<p>Of course, Sydney thought a few halting, stuttering moments later, Hardin could not refuse it if no one had offered it. No more tricks, he had said. Well then, being entirely transparent would be fair, wouldn't it?</p>
<p>"Hmm... I apologize, my dear ones..."</p>
<p>"Ah...?" Aiden had been half-asleep on his shoulder, but he sat up straighter as Sydney shifted beneath him, and Jared removed his arm.</p>
<p>"There is something I'd like to see to," Sydney explained, setting down his cup and getting to his feet with only a little initial unsteadiness. "If you'll excuse me for a moment."</p>
<p>"Of course," said Branla, scooting out of his way, Kirrienne moving over as well to make room.</p>
<p>A moment, he'd said, looking over to Hardin glowering at the mug in his hand. "Or perhaps longer," Sydney acknowledged. If things went well, anyway. Or very, very poorly. "I may call it a night. We shall see..."</p>
<p>"Anything you need help with?" Jared asked.</p>
<p>"...I hope not." Sydney didn't quite stifle a laugh as he stepped out from among them. "I sincerely hope not."</p>
<p>If there <em>had</em> been someone else that could have been of more help, of course Sydney would have deferred. But Hardin had not shown any particular interest in anyone else, with the possible exception of his preoccupation earlier with the flowers Kirrienne had given him. And there before the fire, as Sydney had danced, there had been no mistake. Hardin desired him. Whomever else might have been able to offer Hardin release, Sydney had seen the hunger in Hardin's heart that night. </p>
<p>Furthermore, Sydney could absolutely guarantee that it was mutual. The brief embrace they had shared before their arrival at Leá Monde had given Sydney a glimpse of what it might be like; since that time, he'd only grown more fond of the man. The clever conversation, the look in his eyes when he smiled... This was not an offer Sydney was making only for Hardin's sake. It was genuinely appealing - and given how frustrated Hardin was, Sydney suspected he might just be <em>very</em> enthusiastic.</p>
<p>Hardin had sunk so deeply into his dark thoughts and his drink that he did not even look up at Sydney's approach. He was dwelling again on the dance, the way Sydney had moved... and that gave Sydney an idea. The silken veil had been returned to his pocket after the ceremony, and he brought it forth as he stepped up behind Hardin, let it tumble down before him. Hardin was so distracted that he did not question it, but leaned into it slightly, inhaled deeply the scent of the incense.</p>
<p>That seemed promising, Sydney thought. Maybe his resistance had worn itself out. "Tra la la, Hardin," he murmured.</p>
<p>The sound of his voice, though, made Hardin freeze, then turn to look up. Something for him to see; Sydney twirled the silk about Hardin's shoulders, then dropped it to drape around them.</p>
<p>Immediately Hardin reached up to pull it away, tossing it to the floor in irritation. Too tense for fun, it seemed, and Sydney gave him a teasing reproachful look. "Hardin... will you not celebrate with us?"</p>
<p>"What is it that you want from me, Sydney?"</p>
<p>For him to relax, at the moment. "So conflicted, so confused..." Sydney mused. "So much has happened to you in the past months. Cast those worries aside, for just one night, and let yourself be free."</p>
<p>Instead, Hardin slammed down his mug in anger, so hard that it broke. "I shall be free again when I've left you far behind me, Losstarot," he growled. "Now leave me be. I want nothing more than to be left alone, without your tricks and your taunting."</p>
<p>Lies, of course, when Sydney could hear all the conflicting demands in Hardin's troubled, muddled heart. Hardin started to turn away, but Sydney reached out to him, resting a hand against Hardin's cheek to turn him back. Leaning in close, he offered no tricks, no taunting - only the truth that he knew, that both of them knew but Hardin had yet to accept. "I know..." he whispered, an assurance for Hardin's ears only, "...what you want."</p>
<p><i>...Why... Why is he so...</i> Words came slowly and uncertain, but just as during the dance, what passed between them needed no words. Hardin would have looked away, but he would have looked nowhere else; he was fascinated. </p>
<p>Sydney found him equally fascinating, the yearning in his eyes... Without thinking overly much, Sydney took Hardin's face between his hands - and to his delight, Hardin leaned in closer. Sydney too leaned closer, closing his eyes as his lips drew near to Hardin's. <i>Yes, like this... what you ask, I would not withhold...</i></p>
<p>Hardin abruptly jerked back, scrambling to his feet and nearly falling in his haste. Sydney sighed faintly. They had been so close... surely they could manage to talk their way to some sort of understanding, now that Hardin had come so near to kissing him. But Hardin's thoughts and his head were spinning; he leaned with one arm heavily upon the table. "Is something the matter, Hardin?" Enough drink to let him act instinctively rather than overthinking might have been a good thing, unless he had had too much... </p>
<p>Acting on instinct indeed - Sydney had no warning at all before Hardin's fist lashed out, catching him directly on the chin with such force that he fell backwards, landing quite uncomfortably on a stack of firewood.</p>
<p>...Hardin had struck him? Sydney's thoughts were sluggish, he almost would not have believed it had happened. But he was on the floor, and Hardin was standing over him, fists clenched. And his jaw ached; touching the metal of a finger gingerly to the corner of his mouth, he found he was bleeding.</p>
<p>Hardin <em>had</em> struck him. ...<em>Him.</em> When Sydney's thoughts caught up, he was suddenly infuriated. How <em>dare</em> he?</p>
<p>
  "Was this the reason you took me in instead of killing me when you found me, Sydney?" Hardin shouted down at him. "So that you could use your damned compulsion to keep me as one of your little toys - another man-slave to fawn over you and indulge your every perverse whim? An easy mark, with little spirit left that you would have to break on your own?"
</p>
<p>
  Still utterly stunned, Sydney could not reply, but simply stared up at Hardin - who abruptly seemed to recall himself, stepping back as he glanced around. His voice lowered instead to a growl. "I thank you for the food, the shelter, and the clothing," he told Sydney. "But it is not worth my soul, nor even my body. I am leaving."
</p>
<p>
  Astonished and angry as Sydney was, it had not even registered that someone was at his side, until he found himself being helped to his feet, asked if he was all right. Before he could answer, at his left side, Jared was directing someone. "Take him down! He can't be allowed to-"
</p>
<p>
  "No!" Sydney cut him off. His thoughts still hadn't quite caught up, hobbled both by the drink and by his surprise. But again, "No." Whatever had just happened, he didn't want them to hurt Hardin. Who had hit him. Hardin had hit him. He still was trying to wrap his head around that, but... he thought he had probably deserved it. When he had looked up at Hardin, shouting down at him, it hadn't been entirely anger on Hardin's face, but in his eyes, something more like panic.
</p>
<p>
  His instructions having been overruled, Jared was simply watching him. It was Landrik at his right side, and a few of the others had rushed over to assist if necessary also. "What would you have us do?" Jared was asking.
</p>
<p>
  "I..." Sydney had a feeling this would be much easier sober; he was so unsteady as to lean heavily on Landrik's arm to stay upright. "Let me think."
</p>
<p>
  "Are you all right?" It was Branla now, leaning in to look him over with concern. "You're bleeding. I'll-"
</p>
<p>
  "I am fine," Sydney interrupted, almost snapping. Suddenly he was incredibly irritated by all of this. "Do any of you think he could do me serious harm?"
</p>
<p>
  That made the rest of them back off somewhat. "...Point taken," Branla acknowledged.
</p>
<p>
  Having recovered some of his composure, Sydney steadied himself enough to let go of Landrik, and instead sit down in the chair Hardin had so recently vacated, to try to collect himself some more. He was no less irritated now - no one was fussing over him, but they were all standing around, wary and uncertain of what was happening. And yes, as had been observed, he was bleeding, and though Branla had been about to offer healing, he could cast the spell himself. That cleared his head somewhat, and he rested it in one hand, going over what had happened. He was fine. A fool, most certainly, but fine. 
</p>
<p>
  But then there was Hardin. Who was angry, frightened, clearly inebriated, and judging from a quick look around the courtyard, no longer present. ...And, Sydney observed, there was blood on the edge of the bladed fingers that rested on the table before him. Not much, but even so... "Where did Hardin go?" he asked.
</p>
<p>
  The others merely glanced at each other, uncertain. After Sydney had called them off, they'd turned their attention to him. Sydney wound up answering his own question. "He said that he was leaving." Which would be exceedingly unwise at this hour even for one who was sober - and Sydney already knew that Hardin doubted the warnings Sydney had given him when they arrived. "You-" Sydney gestured to Jared, Landrik, and Branla, who still stood before him. "See if he's still in any of the common areas. You-" Neither Jonas or Morrison drank, they were perhaps more alert than many present. "You two check the path through the mines. He couldn't pass through the portal without one of us, and it wouldn't do for him to try to find another route. Should you find him within the keep, he must remain here. If he has left, you must bring him back."
</p>
<p>
  "If he chooses otherwise?" Jonas asked.
</p>
<p>
  "...That would be very unfortunate." Not only for Hardin himself, but for Sydney, who was already feeling terrible - and more so at the unwitting reminder of the discussion that he and Müllenkamp had had about Hardin only hours ago. "...Do not harm him, but do what you can to convince him to stay, at least overnight." Those he had indicated all nodded, some murmuring their agreement, then hurried on their way.
</p>
<p>
  This left Sydney sitting before only a handful less bewildered, worried brethren, standing by awkwardly, uncertain about what had just happened, or if they were permitted to ask. It was such a vast change, and so suddenly, from the cheerful peace they had all just moments ago been enjoying, that Sydney found it close to unbearable in his present state. Just this would have been bad enough, but the implications...
</p>
<p>
  "I will be in my room," Sydney said abruptly, getting to his feet. "Everyone, if you can, please go about your business for the rest of the evening. This is nothing any of the rest of you need concern yourself with."
</p>
<p>
  But they would. One whom they trusted had turned on him. He had sensed their shock, their anger that someone would strike him, much less someone who was nearly one of them. Kirrienne, who had felt such warmth and concern for Hardin only a short time ago, felt as if <em>she</em> had been struck.
</p>
<p>
  On his way back into the corridors of the keep, Sydney took hold of one of the unopened wine bottles. Between the healing magic and trying to focus enough to deal with the situation he had caused, he had sobered enough to realize just how much damage he may have done, and this did not please him one bit.
</p>
<p>
  -----
</p>
<p>
  The time Sydney spent waiting for word, wondering what he could say or do when it came, gave him some insight as to why Hardin might have remained in the courtyard with the rest of them even if he was in no mood for celebrating. His thoughts and his shame and his worry and his anger were chasing themselves in circles, another drink had done nothing to calm him, and he very much wished he could simply down several more and let himself be overtaken.
</p>
<p>
  But overindulgence had caused enough trouble already tonight. Although he could not say he was entirely sober, he was thinking clearly enough to know that he <em>needed</em> to be thinking at least reasonably clearly whenever those he had sent in search of Hardin returned. With him, or without him.
</p>
<p>
  Sydney wasn't sure which he feared most. If Hardin refused to come back to the safety of the keep, or if they could not find him in the areas the brethren had secured, that would mean he was in mortal danger. Close as he was to the elements after the ceremonies of the day, Sydney could feel the full force of the Dark welling up, pressing against the barriers that kept it at bay. It hunted, and beyond the keep and the handful of rooms in the mines that led to the portal they used, it held sway over the city. It could find any prey, and it had no mercy. Sydney might have to go after Hardin himself...
</p>
<p>
  Which was a dreadful thought, as was Hardin being found and returning at their request. Sydney would have to try to explain himself then, coming face to face with the man, and he was not sure that he was capable of doing so in any sort of reasonable fashion in his current condition.
</p>
<p>
  Enough wine, certainly. He hadn't finished the last drink he'd poured, and he probably shouldn't. Instead, he stared down at the dark red in the goblet, swirling it absently, and pondered thoughts even darker, thoughts he had intended to put off for another day. Thoughts about free will. Predestination.
</p>
<p>
  Müllenkamp had confirmed that Hardin was needed. There was some purpose he was meant for. And if by his carelessness Sydney had ruined some grand design for which the gods had brought Hardin to him...
</p>
<p>
  The ever-growing cycle of anger and guilt and dread was momentarily interrupted by a knock on the door - Jonas and Morrison returning. Alone.
</p>
<p>
  "He's nowhere within the secured area, Sydney," Morrison reported. "He must have gone outside."
</p>
<p>
  "Good riddance, I say," Jonas added.
</p>
<p>
  Much as Sydney had expected - both the results of their search, as it had taken so long, and Jonas's attitude. "Then look for him outside," he told them. "Find a swordsman and take him with you; you may need him, if one of the spirits forgets who you are and in whose memory we come. He can't have gotten far. Bring him back immediately - and unharmed, mind you."
</p>
<p>
  A pause. "Why?" Morrison asked.
</p>
<p>
  "I say we let the spirits do as they will with him," Jonas muttered.
</p>
<p>
  Their devotion would have been admirable, if it hadn't been so... zealous. Utterly devoid of nuance. Sydney's frustration must have been visible in his expression, for when he looked up at the two of them, Jonas took a step backwards in alarm. "And I say you find him and bring him back," Sydney told them. "Do you question my authority?"
</p>
<p>
  "N-no, of course not," came Morrison's immediate reply. "But it's just that..."
</p>
<p>
  "He struck you, Sydney! That cannot be tolerated!"
</p>
<p>
  His self-control had already been strained, and Jonas's outburst was just enough to break it - his wine goblet crashed against the wall beside the two men, causing them to flinch away instinctively. Sydney took a deep breath and tried to collect himself again. This was not going to work, not if this was how the two of them felt. Yet this was too important; Hardin was likely already in danger. Perhaps, gods forbid, worse. 
</p>
<p>
  Sydney decided he had little choice. He stood, coming to stand before the two of them, meeting their startled eyes firmly for moments that stretched on. Making certain they understood... they had seen nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened that night, but that John Hardin had strayed from the keep at night, unprotected.
</p>
<p>
  Once that had been made clear, he spoke again, more calmly. "Find Padric, and have him accompany you on the search." If Hardin was not in trouble, his friend might sense his presence if they drew close, and perhaps be able to convince him to return. If he <em>was</em>... Padric might be capable of sensing that as well, and of driving most of the city's inhuman dwellers away, and he was certainly capable of contacting Sydney if there was a situation the three of them could not handle.
</p>
<p>
  "As you wish, Sydney," Jonas agreed simply, and Morrison merely nodded as they turned to go.
</p>
<p>
  He had not wanted to do that. The power of compulsion was a sacred trust between himself and the gods, granted because he fully understood that it was not to be used lightly, or frequently. Only when the stakes were high, when something important was at risk. And that was why, he told himself, stepping forward to pick up the goblet he had thrown - but instead, he just stared absently down at it, at the pool of red that had spilled from the metal vessel. Like blood from armor... as in his dreams... 
</p>
<p>
  His fist struck the wall hard enough to chip the carven stone. Given what he had seen, it might be the best thing for Hardin if he could manage to safely leave the city, never to look back. Those fated to serve the gods rarely lived a peaceful life. And if what Müllenkamp had said was true, Hardin might yet escape that.
</p>
<p>
  The question then was: what retribution might there be for Sydney, if he had been the one to defy the gods' will and turn Hardin away...?
</p>
<p>
  There was no sense in even considering it. Sydney turned, snatched up the bottle of wine as he went to his bed. Whatever they deemed necessary, they would do. He had no say in it. He had been careless, he had failed them. He deserved some sort of penance - something more than the present overwhelming anxiety and guilt. He tilted the bottle back to drink deeply; it was useless to worry about clarity of thought when his mind was already so shattered, and he needed to calm himself somehow.
</p>
<p>
  But it hadn't worked earlier, and it was unlikely to work now, and if Hardin <em>was</em> still within the city, he would need to deal with that... Before Sydney could even try to pull himself together, tears of frustration and helplessness were in his eyes, and he let his head sink into his hand. Why had he been such a fool?
</p>
<p>
  The first tears had yet to even spill over when he heard the quiet voice. <i>Sydney...</i>
</p>
<p>
  Not spoken aloud, but Sydney's head shot up, looking at the corner from which the unspoken address had come. "...Hardin...?"
</p>
<p>
  It had been Hardin's voice, the voice of Hardin's soul rather, but Hardin was not there. Not physically. Blinking back the tears, Sydney tried to focus - and discovered to his horror that indeed - it was the voice of Hardin's soul that spoke. Hardin was not present in body for Sydney to have heard his heart speak, but much like in the heartseeing, there was a shadow, a wisp born of spirit and Dark. It had the vague shape of Hardin, flickered with the same feeling as Hardin, but it was fainter, more tenuous... and it was puzzled as well as concerned.
</p>
<p>
  "Gods, no..." It had been bad enough to think that he had failed the gods, but at least then he could have taken some comfort in the thought that Hardin was free. But for his shade to be here, among the dead of Leá Monde... Sydney could almost feel his own soul curling up to die within him.  "Hardin... what have I done?" he whispered aloud.
</p>
<p>
  The shadowed wisp did not reply, merely continued to feel uncertain - then the Dark swirled about him, and the apparition was gone.
</p>
<p>
  ...What had he done? He had driven Hardin to his death. He had lost men and women among them before, sometimes he had even known beforehand that they would not survive the day, but always it was because their time had come. Their lives had been willingly given over to the gods by their own choice, and the gods had received them into their presence - but Hardin had left because of Sydney's own poor judgment, over something so unimportant, and for him to die <em>here</em>, within the paling of the city...
</p>
<p>
  Somehow he managed to set the bottle down, or perhaps it fell, but Sydney let himself bury his head in his hands. He knew better than anyone that the gods were patient and forgiving - but this, he felt, was unforgivable.
</p>
<p>
  He had no idea how long he'd been sitting at the edge of his bed, curled into himself in despair, when another voice reached his heart. <i>Come quickly - we have need of you!</i>
</p>
<p>
  Padric this time, with an urgency seldom heard in the man's voice, whether spoken aloud or in his heart. In spite of his misery, that was enough to make Sydney snap to attention. <i>What is it?</i>
</p>
<p>
       <i>Hardin needs healing at once - more than any of us can manage. You are the only one who might save him.</i>
 </p>
<p>
  Even Sydney could not bring back the dead. Which meant... <i>He is alive?</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Yes, but wounded badly.</i>
 </p>
<p>
  And Padric would know, even in a place where the dead sometimes pretended at being alive. No time to try to determine how and why he had seen what he had seen - Sydney reached out to follow the threads of Padric's words to his presence, and vanished. 
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>Within the blink of an eye, he was in the subterranean streets they called the Undercity. The enchanted streetlamp with its pale, cool light illuminated the three members of the search party, Jonas standing staring off towards one of the doorways while Morrison and Padric knelt beside...</em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>"I thought I saw something move, and when I looked closer, I found a gate open," Padric explained. "The direction of the gods, I believe, for he could not have been above ground so recently. We nearly arrived too late."</em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>Hardin <em>was</em> alive. His breaths were labored and shallow; they'd turned his head, for blood dripped from his mouth with each exhalation, and his body twitched and trembled even in his unconscious state. His shirt was soaked through with blood, shredded to pieces across his abdomen, and so was the flesh beneath.</em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>"'Twas a Quicksilver," Morrison informed Sydney, as he knelt beside Hardin as well. He'd been a chemist once, but his tinctures and poultices were of no use for injuries so severe; he and Padric could do no more than try to keep Hardin still, to keep him from bleeding out more quickly. "Ran off that way when it saw us coming - Jonas is watching to make sure it doesn't come back."</em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>"It shouldn't," Sydney stated. Not with him here. But Hardin had been nearly disemboweled before their arrival. There were more wounds apparent elsewhere, but it didn't matter - this was a mortal wound, and Padric had not exaggerated about Hardin needing healing immediately, more than any other could manage.</em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>But Sydney was the Keeper, and particularly here, the powers were quick to respond to his command. Injuries so deep and severe were not easy to heal, requiring more than a single incantation, but at his direction, the magic began its work, knitting together severed organs, cleansing the blood as it began to flow again, restoring torn muscle... </em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>It was a relief when Hardin was able to take a deep enough breath to cough, bringing up some of the blood that had filled his lungs. Padric, sitting at his head, helped to turn him so he wouldn't simply choke again, and when the fit had passed, Sydney couldn't help but pause in his spellcasting to rest a hand gently against Hardin's cheek. It was a mercy that Hardin had not yet healed enough to regain consciousness - Sydney had sustained similar wounds, and the process of recovery was nearly as unpleasant as the injury. On second thought, he cast a different spell, ensuring that Hardin remained asleep as they finished.</em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  Perhaps his touch lingered unusually long, with his mind still foggy from drink, for when he lifted his head, Padric was looking at him with a grave but somewhat curious expression. ...Padric might be a fellow heartseer, Sydney reminded himself, but he was the Keeper - and even after a few drinks, his talent was strong enough not to cast his thoughts about without intending to. "...This is my fault," he murmured, as they waited for Hardin to catch his breath again. It was partially a confession, partially an excuse.
</p>
<p>
  Of course, Padric was a heartseer, but also insightful in general - and intelligent enough to not say a thing, but merely lower his eyes to Hardin again.
</p>
<p>
  With Sydney there, Morrison had stood to keep an eye on their surroundings as Jonas did, standing watch while Sydney continued to carefully, gradually, direct the magic, with Padric helping to position Hardin so that his body was in alignment as it healed. For less serious injuries it might not have been necessary, but such grievous wounds were enough to put a strain on even Sydney's ability, and the less work the spells had to do, the better. 
</p>
<p>
  At last, Sydney sat back on his heels with a sigh. Hardin was no longer in danger, but merely unconscious. Best that he stayed that way, Sydney decided, for his magic did not heal as the Dark healed him after such injury. It would take some time before the natural function of Hardin's body gradually returned to its normal workings, the relative calm of sleep would help ease him through the uncomfortable process - and also, lest there be another scene upon his waking. Sydney could not bear the thought of it at the moment, after all of this.
</p>
<p>
  Padric might not know just <em>how</em> exhausted Sydney was, in body and spirit, but he clearly knew that he was. "Do you need us to transport him? Or will you handle it?"
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>"Perhaps not all of you," Sydney acknowledged, and looked up to Jonas and Morrison. "Your service has saved a man's life tonight - you are free to go, with my thanks and the blessing of the gods."</em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>"I'm honored to be of help," Morrison replied honestly, and Jonas nodded, as they turned to make their way back to the keep.</em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>Although that was not what the two of them had voiced earlier, or what they would likely be voicing now had Sydney not intervened. Padric, however, had needed no intervention to be convinced to help, though surely he had heard what had happened, by spoken rumor or otherwise. Sydney looked to him again. "I appreciate your understanding, Padric. On behalf of both Hardin and myself."</em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>Padric shrugged slightly. "I would say that I understand only in small part, and thus am in no position to judge."</em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>Sydney smiled faintly. That might be precisely the understanding that both of them needed. "Would you be willing to assist for a bit longer?"</em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>"As long as I can be of use."</em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>Hardin's shirt was in tatters, and even if it had not been, it was irredeemable for the blood that soaked it. His leathers could be repaired, and Sydney would see that they were. In the meantime, Padric could help to get him out of what he wore, wash the remnants of his encounter with the Quicksilver away before redressing him. And Hardin was of course taller than he - even had Sydney not been exhausted and still a bit unsteady, it would have been difficult to get Hardin into a bed by himself.</em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>After very little time to consider, Sydney had decided that bed would be his. Having had some time to recover from his persistent spellcasting, Sydney had noticed something about Hardin that had changed. Or rather, he had finally recognized it as something that would not have been unusual about any one of their number, but only for Hardin. He hadn't even thought about it at first... but he thought he understood now what had happened just before Padric had called to him. He already dreaded speaking with Hardin when he woke. With the realization they had considerably more to speak about, his heart sank further.</em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>And Hardin was likely not the only one he must speak to. "...What did you hear about what took place this night, before you were called?" Sydney asked Padric, as they stood by his bedside.</em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>"None were certain about the cause," Padric replied, "but some had seen, and others had heard, that he had struck you."</em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>"And their thoughts about this?"</em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>"Most were outraged. But as you had told them he was not to be harmed, they refrained."</em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>Nothing Sydney hadn't guessed. He was the next best thing to a god in their eyes. Assaulting him for whatever reason was akin to blasphemy. Even Padric viewed him in such a way - he simply would not rush to judgment ahead of his high priest, particularly when it came to someone whose heart he knew to be honorable. Those who did not know Hardin well, however, would likely never look at him the same way.</em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>Which could present a significant problem if Hardin was to become one of them, and now it seemed inevitable that even if he did not wish to follow Müllenkamp, Sydney needed to convince him to stay on with them for at least a short time, for his own sake. And during that time, he would be faced with that distrust. This would not be helpful in convincing him to remain.</em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>"I suppose you noticed no such sentiments in Jonas and Morrison when they came to you," Sydney muttered, gazing down at Hardin, sleeping peacefully beneath the enchantment. Would that he could sleep at all, let alone so calmly.</em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>"I did," Padric acknowledged. "And had no doubt that as always, you had chosen the wisest course of action. Surely they would have followed your orders even so, but might have allowed themselves to be careless."</em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>"They were willing to leave him to the spirits." Yes, Padric viewed him as infallible just as much as any of them. Even knowing this, Sydney allowed himself to take some comfort from Padric's words. Reassurance that he was, in fact, doing the right thing. "...I believe it would be best for everyone if they did not recall that anything had occurred. Yet..." There were so many pieces to this puzzling dilemma that needed to be addressed, and he was so tired. So utterly exhausted. "It will be clear to some of our brothers and sisters that something unusual did take place, even if they do not remember." He needed to find an alternative explanation. An incident that did not involve a confrontation between Hardin and himself.</em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>Padric was thinking along the same lines. "Let it be on me," he suggested, after a moment. "There was a quarrel, but between Hardin and myself, and it drove him to leave the keep."</em>
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    <em>That was close enough to the truth, but for Sydney's participation, that it seemed as though it would be acceptable cover. And Padric was generous to offer. There were a few potential points where it could fail, however, including... "We have other heartseers among us, Padric. Henna's ability, for instance, already rivals your own." </em>
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    <em>Padric nodded, considering. Sydney had already thought of a possible way around that, but he did not want to ask it of him. If Padric suggested it, however...</em>
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    <em>And he did, when it occurred to him almost at once. "Compel me as well, then, to believe the story."</em>
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<p>
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    <em>"Are you willing?" Sydney asked. "To have blame assigned by others when you know you have done nothing wrong is one manner of trouble. To feel guilt over your own actions, and wholly believe that you had committed some offense, is another."</em>
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<p>
  <em>
    <em>"I am. For the sake of keeping the peace among us, a few days of temporary guilt is very little trouble, and Hardin is not a man to hold grudges over minor things - I will ask his pardon, he will grant it, and all will be well. Please, if it would help to secure his safety."</em>
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<p>
  <em>
    <em>If Padric knew the whole of what had happened, though... His talent was to read hearts - he did not see what this night had wrought upon Hardin beyond the wounds that had been healed. But then again, he might never find out. Sydney had no intention of telling anyone but Hardin himself in the near future, and if the matter came to light, he need not say when nor how. </em>
  </em>
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<p>
  <em>
    <em>"Very well," Sydney agreed. "Your commitment to deny even your own self is admirable, brother. Before it is done, if I may request one more small favor?"</em>
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</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>"As you have need of me," Padric replied simply.</em>
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<p>
  <em>
    <em>Sydney looked down to Hardin again, released the threads of the Dark that wove a cocoon of sleep around him. "Please stay with him, while I attend to this," he said quietly. "If he should wake, let him know that I will return shortly, and I have something to tell him." There was a chance he would still be angry, and now healed, attempt to leave again... but Sydney thought he knew Hardin well enough by now that he would give Sydney a chance to speak. Particularly if Hardin guessed correctly that one of the things he had to tell him was an apology. </em>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <em>Though certainly, Sydney thought as he looked down at the invisible miasma haunting the edges of him, shadows mingling with glints of earth-tone in a glow like smoldering embers, Hardin would never guess one of the matters he had to apologize for.</em>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hardin must have been exhausted even before the drinks and the damage done to his body. By the time Sydney had returned, and the final piece of the solution he and Padric had devised had been put in place, and Padric had been dismissed (after Sydney had reassured him that he would immediately pass along his apologies), Hardin had still not awoken - and short of Sydney intentionally waking him, he did not seem likely to. Nothing appeared wrong, his injuries had healed, no dark magicks lingered from his encounter in the Undercity. He was just very, very tired. Once peaceful slumber had found him, he appeared to be making the most of it.</p><p>Between what had happened in the streets below and what had driven him there, Sydney was not going to allow him to wake alone. He'd pulled the chair over and settled himself in it beside the bed - and then thought to get up again to pick up the goblet he'd thrown across the room, clean up the small puddle of wine left behind, and put the unfinished bottle aside before sitting down again - and simply tried to relax. And consider what he would say when Hardin woke, which was at odds with trying to relax.</p><p>But it had been a long night, after a long day. Sydney had had several drinks, exerted himself physically with the dancing, spiritually with the healing, and thinking did not come easily. Instead, he found himself doing little but watching Hardin sleep. The even rise and fall of his chest was hypnotic, a faint rasp that suggested he was approaching a snore was comforting. Despite all the turmoil of the preceding evening, he was still and untroubled. Sydney was suddenly far more understanding of why Hardin might have been secretly watching him sleep before their arrival. </p><p>Which brought to mind the dance the night before. Müllenkamp suggesting that he <i>look closer</i>. Asking her what he was supposed to be looking for, being told it was an excellent question, and he had the answer. To his own question. Which was... <i>What am I looking for?</i></p><p>Despite the obvious, crass, but entirely truthful answer he had provided earlier - without Hardin's blatant lust overwhelming both their thoughts, Sydney still felt the desire to reach out and touch, to rest a hand against his face as he had done earlier in the Undercity. Not to wake him, but just to be a part of that peace. Or perhaps to lean forward, rest his head upon the man's chest, and drift off to sleep himself. None of these would be helpful if Hardin were to wake, however, so Sydney made himself sit still and merely go back to watching.</p><p>What <em>was</em> he looking for in John Hardin? What did he hope to find?</p><p>Perhaps it was the gods' trick on him when his head jerked up with a start sometime later. One thing he had wished he could find was sleep, and it seemed from the diminished state of the fire in the hearth that he must have found it. Mercifully dreamless, for a change. Perhaps rather than the gods' trick, it was their blessing. </p><p>Hardin, too, still slept. Sydney added a bit of wood to the fire, determined that it was just past dawn, and got a drink of water before sitting down at his side again. This time he turned to just looking down at his hands, settled in his lap. Whatever he was supposed to find by looking at Hardin, now that he wasn't so exhausted, he found mostly regret, and something uneasy that he couldn't quite place.</p><p>And, of course, those flickers of shadow that brought on even further regret. </p><p>He was still tired enough, though, for it to not quite register immediately when Hardin stirred and turned over. The sound of a yawn, the drowsy silent murmurs about strange dreams...</p><p>It was the palpable shock when Hardin opened his eyes to see him sitting there that caught Sydney's attention and caused him to look up suddenly as well, finding Hardin's confused stare. "Good morning, Hardin."</p><p>Hardin was too startled to respond; though he remembered to shut himself off quickly, Sydney first caught glimpses of the previous night's dance, the silk sliding down around his shoulders, his brother in the ghastly light of the Undercity - of course, Sydney thought, that would have been the catalyst - and then the realization he'd been undressed. <i>Gods, Sydney didn't-</i></p><p>"Don't be ridiculous." He'd expected as much, and already Sydney was finding himself a bit irritated with the man's continuing determination to assume ill intent - and that seduction would have been <em>ill intent</em> at all. "Your wounds were severe when they found you, and your shirt was drenched in your blood. We had to change you into something, once I'd healed you. Not that it was an easy task, considering how you allowed yourself to be so thoroughly tricked by the Quicksilver." </p><p>Hardin almost certainly had no knowledge of the creature, Sydney reminded himself, and paused to explain. "Cursed dolls possessed by the spirits of children long-dead, vanquished by the plague which ravaged the city a century ago," he elaborated, "so named for their habit of projecting the form of those they see in their victims' minds. They usually do not trouble those who have been touched by the Dark in such a way, however, for we can see them for what they are with little effort." Hardin, though, had seen what he wished to see, though by now he should have recognized it was impossible. "Hardin, you have been obsessing. It is time that you let him go."</p><p>"That is none of your business, Losstarot," Hardin began hotly. "Especially not after what you did last night. Even if you did heal my wounds, I have no intention of speaking to you about Philip - nor anything else."</p><p>"A pity." In this, Hardin could not refuse, and Sydney leaned in, meeting his eyes with a firm stare. "For there is much we must talk about - and I do not speak of your brother."</p><p>Though Hardin's face was set in anger, in his eyes Sydney could see the same sort of helpless desperation setting in as the night before, in the courtyard. "You may be able to compel me, to put thoughts in my head and force my body to your whims," Hardin stated angrily, "but do not fool yourself into thinking I am yours. I am my own, Losstarot - my soul belongs to none but myself, as much as you may twist it!"</p><p>...They would get nowhere until that was addressed, Sydney thought, as much as he would rather not. He sighed, his head bowing slightly as he looked down at his hands again instead. "I suppose that would be as good a place as any to start, would it not?" </p><p>For all that he'd spent a good portion of the night trying to think of what he would say if the search parties brought Hardin back to the keep, the circumstances under which Hardin had returned had raised entirely different and more dire subjects they would need to discuss, and Sydney had never even settled on an adequate response to his initial sin. "Hardin, I know my behavior last night was... reprehensible," he began, hesitant. "I would explain myself by admitting I'd had a few glasses of wine, that I was not entirely sober, but that does not excuse what I did. I knew that you also had had a bit too much, and I took advantage of that..."</p><p>Given his position, he had not had to apologize to anyone for anything significant for a rather long time - those around him simply accepted his actions as his authoritative right, even when they might not understand or agree. Now it felt awkward, as though he needed to learn all over again. "Hardin, I offer you my sincerest apologies. I had no right to do such a thing."</p><p>When he had finished, Hardin remained silent. Surprised, perhaps, or deciding whether he would accept or not? Instead, after a moment... "Then we agree that I had every right to strike you."</p><p>That was not <em>any</em> of the responses Sydney had expected, and he looked up with surprise to see Hardin smiling a grim, satisfied smile. His hand absently rose to his chin, the pain long gone, but the memory of the blow remained. Rather than pain, in fact, he mostly remembered how astonished he had been. Somehow, he suddenly found himself laughing.</p><p>Hardin's eyes narrowed. "Do you find this amusing?"</p><p>The overall situation hadn't been, no, and Sydney shook his head. It was just how entirely unapologetic Hardin was about it on top of everything else. "Only you, John Hardin," he chuckled. "Only you would have the nerve to strike me." At least among those who did not actively seek his life...</p><p>"Hmmph." Hardin looked away, as if annoyed, but a moment later, a quiet chuckle escaped him as well. "I suppose I can forgive you for this one episode, but... gods!" Any hint of amusement vanished abruptly. "Thanks to you and your blasted compulsion, I could have died out there, Sydney! If you ever so much as look at me with the merest idea of seduction in your head again-"</p><p>Sydney's own amusement also disappeared, the irritation returning in its place. Hardin <em>still</em> didn't understand what had taken place between them? "I may have taken advantage of your addled mind, but not to the degree you seem to think," he informed Hardin. "I swear to you by the gods - and seeing as I believe, unlike you, it is not an oath I will take lightly - I swear that I did not compel you! I tempted and teased, yes, but your reaction was wholly your own."</p><p>"You expect me to believe that? I nearly kissed you," Hardin almost spat the words out, "and as absurd as it is, for a moment I even believed that I wanted to! If not your compulsion, what other explanation is there?"</p><p>"The most obvious," Sydney replied. It was not egotism or arrogance, but simply his observation of the facts. "Deep down, so buried beneath excuses and denial that even you do not recognize it... you are attracted to me, Hardin. Many emotions go unnoticed within a man's heart."</p><p>Hardin's anger certainly hadn't gone unnoticed. "Ridiculous!"</p><p>"When inhibitions are lowered, due to an excess of drink, perhaps," Sydney continued, "sometimes they make themselves known. But it is not as if these feelings of yours have never surfaced before, is it? The night before our arrival, when you held me; during the dance last night..." And there had been other occasions that Sydney had noticed, though never had either of them acted upon it.</p><p>"Due to your manipulation," Hardin said firmly.</p><p>Sydney shook his head; arguing the point while Hardin continued to cling to a falsehood would solve nothing. "If you will not believe my words," he said, softening his tone, "then find the answer within yourself. Look at me, Hardin. Look at me, and search your heart for the truth instead of running from it, as you have been."</p><p>Hardin paused, still looking resolute. "...And how am I to know you won't try another of your tricks?"</p><p>He couldn't know for certain, unfortunately. But Sydney had no intention of tricking him - he had no motive, nor need, to prove the point. "I swear that I will do nothing." He sat back in the chair, folding his hands in his lap once more, and even closed his eyes. "If it will put your mind at ease, I will not so much as look at you."</p><p>"As if I can trust you to keep your word."</p><p>Sydney frowned slightly, but Hardin's mutter had been quiet and bitter, more a warning to himself than a dismissal of Sydney's assurance. And was it any wonder Hardin was wary? He'd been used, he'd been lied to, and it had cost him all he had. All but his own body and soul - so of course he would guard them with such vehemence. Sydney made no reply, and remained still, waiting.</p><p>Despite Hardin being conscious enough to keep his heart to himself, bereft of the distracting sight of the eyes, Sydney could hear traces. How absurd it was, and then, an eerie echo of Sydney's own thoughts as he had done much the same only hours before. <i>I do not even know what I'm looking for, let alone how to find it.</i> The similarity, Sydney found, was disquieting. All the more so, when he considered that perhaps the Lady's reasons had been... No, he told himself. He already knew he found Hardin attractive, and he had never denied it.</p><p>But Hardin calmed, and looked, and again much as in Sydney's own experience, the looking brought further calm. A burst of irritation, as brief as a fire finding and consuming a dried leaf, as some memory was brought forth. But the calm curiosity returned, and a slowly building sense of something softer... tenderness. That was not precisely what Sydney had expected Hardin might find, and it gave him pause. Particularly as he now could identify what it was that had made <em>him</em> uneasy, what had made him wish to reach out to Hardin as he slept.</p><p>But beyond that, Sydney sensed it deepening in Hardin; at first merely a yearning, it grew to desire. Hardin's breath quickened at the wanderings of his mind as it laid bare his hunger, and then caught in his throat with his shock.</p><p>"Lies!" Hardin's exclamation was no longer so much defiant as it was defensive. "You must have planted these thoughts in my mind yourself! I've no doubt you could and would do such a thing."</p><p>Sydney sighed wearily, opening his eyes again. Hardin was so desperate for denial that he would not listen even to his heart? Or basic common sense. "Honestly, Hardin... if I was going to do such a thing, why would I have not simply forced your will to suit my purposes already? And we would not be having this conversation if I had," Sydney reminded him.</p><p>Hardin hesitated, but found he only had one answer to give, and not an adequate one. "I don't know!"</p><p>His words may have sounded angry, but from the look in Hardin's eyes, clearly he had realized that his resistance was useless. "Exactly," Sydney told him, more gently, as Hardin dropped his head into his hands. "There is no reason for me to do so."</p><p>He had no more to say, defeated as he was. But it was not defeat as he believed, Sydney thought - rather a step towards eventual peace. "You fight against it so hard," he murmured. "As if it was something to be feared or despised... Is it because, perhaps, you are more religious than you think? Or is it just that it was the last thing about your former life that you believed was still true? Yes... Everything you once had, everything you once could hold fast to in your life has turned to dust, has it not? Your family, your allegiances, your reputation... everything except yourself. And if even you have changed-"</p><p>"Sydney..." Hardin interrupted. There was no force behind it this time, only weariness, and his head remained in his hands. "Please... no more. I've admitted it already - what more do you want from me?"</p><p>"Acceptance," Sydney replied quietly. "Not for my sake, but for your own. A man cannot be anything but what he is, not without a great deal of suffering - a fire to reforge him. The easiest path to peace lies in simply accepting these feelings, and moving ahead with your life." Sydney caught himself starting to lean forward, to reach out and lay a hand upon Hardin, and stopped. Under the circumstances, it might not be a comfort. "Granted, it will take some time. That was my transgression last night - I thought to bring you to acceptance before you were ready. But..." Sydney sighed faintly. Hardin did not need explanations or excuses at the moment. "You do not wish to speak of this anymore. I understand, and I promise you this: I will not bring the matter up again, through words or actions. After what came of it last night... I owe you as much."</p><p>Hardin's response was essentially mumbled into his hands. "...Thank you."</p><p>"Then this discussion is finished." Since Hardin had not objected... but that meant moving on to another subject. "Besides, there is another more urgent matter we must discuss," Sydney informed him, "though I fear it will sit no better with you."</p><p>Hardin looked up again, his face already troubled. At least in this, Sydney did not have to concern himself with how to say it in a way that would not be misconstrued. In this, he could simply behave as he was accustomed to - as the high priest of Müllenkamp.</p><p>"By this time," he began, "you already know much of the powers possessed by myself and the brethren. Though some of the things we do are taught, spells and incantations, each man is born with certain innate talents. We may say that these gifts are bestowed upon us by the Dark, but that is not entirely the case; the Dark simply allows a man to access these gifts, and amplifies them. It is a force of nature, though even the Dark itself denies its own existence - you could say that it is more an absence of existence."</p><p>Hardin's brow furrowed slightly as Sydney spoke, obviously puzzled as to why Sydney was explaining their mysteries to him now. "When touched by its emptiness," Sydney continued, "certain barriers within a man's mind are worn away, releasing the abilities he was given from birth. When your friend Padric was touched, he found that he was able to read hearts. Duncan could reform a man's perceptions for a few moments at a time. Kermiak has the ability to levitate small objects. As unnatural as these things may sound, they are not alien to a normal man in the least."</p><p>And Hardin thought of himself as a normal man, and he was <em>still</em> a normal man. But with a difference; Sydney could see now, with the Sight beyond sight, the wisps of shadow and hints of stone and flame that danced at the edges of Hardin's soul.</p><p>"The Dark runs strong here within Leá Monde," Sydney told him, "and last night, it found you. You have been baptized into the Dark just as the brethren and I, Hardin."</p><p>The jolt of terror was almost tangible, and Hardin stared at Sydney in disbelief. After a moment, his eyes turned downward, as if he were thinking. When he raised them again, his disbelief had turned to dubiousness. "Are you certain?"</p><p>Sydney nodded. "Look around you." If his guess was correct...</p><p>Hardin's eyes turned aside, and immediately widened as he fully took in the table beside Sydney's chair and what was upon it. He turned his head, looking towards the fire - and then the threads of the Dark were uncoiling across the breadth of the room, stretching out towards the hearth, as Hardin's face went blank and slack in a way that Sydney recognized with mild alarm. "Slowly, Hardin!"</p><p>Hardin's body sat upright in surprise, gasping in the breath that had lapsed, and the Dark dissipated. He blinked, trying to dispel the sudden dizziness, then looked back in the direction of the fire. "What madness is this?"</p><p>Sydney had not witnessed this power before, but he had heard of it manifesting in past servants of the Lady. Upon that recollection, it had provided a possible explanation for what he had seen the night before in this very room. Now he was nearly certain. "It appears as though you have a very rare and useful gift," he replied. "You are able to view distant people or places - or scrye, as we often refer to the sight of the spirit rather than the sight of the eyes - without your body being present. Just a moment ago, you wanted to examine the wall, and so you unconsciously reached out with an extension of your spirit to approach it. Last night, your mind must have been preoccupied with what I had done, to send that extension of yourself to this very room in search of me."</p><p>"Gods..." Still staring at the hearth across the room, Hardin looked stunned, almost dazed. "Then it wasn't a dream, or a hallucination. I really saw..." His voice trailed off, and he lifted his eyes to Sydney once more. "How did this come to pass, Sydney?"</p><p>"I told you long ago to heed my warnings, no matter the situation, lest it bring trouble down upon your own head," Sydney reminded him. "This is such an instance - the reason I forbade you to venture beyond the areas held by Müllenkamp was to guard against this. Within Leá Monde, the Dark is far stronger than usual, and with none living to sustain it here for the last twenty years, it will feed upon whatever it finds. And the Dark is drawn to the scent of blood. Mind you, it is not evil any more than the cat that feeds upon the mouse."</p><p>But to be fair, it hadn't been defiance or skepticism that drove Hardin from the keep - or that brought him to the Dark's attention. "I suppose you were not solely to blame," Sydney admitted. "It was the wounds on your face that first drew their interest, though it would have come upon you eventually whether you were injured or not. That is, if the many inhabitants of Leá Monde had not killed you first. There dwell far stronger creatures than the Quicksilver in the Undercity, and when my followers could not find you within the keep, I..."</p><p>Sydney had seen death before. By necessity, by fate. It was never without some degree of anguish, but this had been different. A senseless accident that he had caused. He abruptly stood, went to tend the fire, which needed no tending.  "When they could not find you, I thought you might already have perished. And then, when you called my name across the planes, I was certain it was your shade who had spoken."</p><p>He'd turned away in hopes of Hardin not seeing any trace of the horror he'd felt when Hardin had called his name. But Hardin's heart told him true - Hardin had seen, and Hardin remembered. <i>Incredible - he really would have been upset if I had died. ...But for what reason? If he believed... knew... that I was attracted to him...</i></p><p>"Let us not dwell on that sort of thought." Given his own uneasiness about the thoughts he'd been thinking while Hardin slept, Sydney didn't care to think about it at the moment either. Better by far, as well, not to look him in the eye, and he continued idly poking at the fire. "In the past few minutes, you have learned of two new aspects of yourself, but the one we speak of now is more important by far. You are but an infant in this power, and if you stay with us, I will guide you. I would not be more to you than a teacher - that I promise."</p><p>"And if I choose to leave you, as I decided last night?"</p><p>They both knew it was a meaningless question. Hardin had seemingly accepted Sydney's apology, Sydney truly had no intention to do anything that might cause any further tension between them, and Hardin was intelligent enough to recognize that he was going to need direction. But he had to ask, for his own dignity. Sydney understood. "If you choose to leave, perhaps you will live a normal life, never manifesting this power again," he said, rising to face Hardin again. "Perhaps. But on the other hand, perhaps some emotion will catch you off guard, or your curiosity will cause your gift to manifest without your will as it did a moment ago. If that happens, and you have not yet learned how to remain partially in your normal state of consciousness, it could cause you a great deal of difficulty. And if the wrong person is to witness such an episode, you could end up burned at the stake by the cardinal's ignorant followers."</p><p>"For this? For an ability I never asked for, that I stumbled upon by accident?"</p><p>"As I said, they are ignorant. You cannot fault them for it, though; you were as ignorant as they only weeks ago, were you not?" </p><p>But Hardin was learning, at a very accelerated pace - and they would need to begin these new lessons at once. To that end, Sydney gestured towards the foot of the bed. "There is a chest containing clothes you can wear until yours are cleaned and mended. I will leave you now so that you may dress. Once you have eaten, seek me out, and I will begin teaching you what you should know. Please do try to refrain from scrying until then - it is not dangerous, exactly, but it might cause you some... confusion."</p><p>This time, Hardin did not balk at Sydney's instructions. "I suppose I must thank you yet again," he acknowledged. "Ironic... but you did apologize, and I suppose that's as much as you can do."</p><p>It was, unfortunately. Already on his way out, Sydney hesitated, then turned back. He had nearly forgotten, and was reluctant to tell Hardin, lest it cause another argument over whether and how it was appropriate to use the power he so feared. "One last thing you should know, Hardin. I did use my compulsion last night, but not upon you. Many among the brethren would have gladly watched you die at the hands of the Quicksilver, and perhaps joined in, after seeing you strike me."</p><p>This time, Hardin's rebuke was not so forceful, hardly a rebuke at all. "It seems ruthless, that you should use such a power to lie to so many people."</p><p>"It was for your safety." Sydney had prepared his response, regardless. "Would you rather have had a large number of the brethren shun and perhaps even attempt to harm you? Would you rather have had them muddy their souls with anger when they looked upon you?"</p><p>Hardin merely frowned. Not that Sydney didn't understand his reluctance. "Not all of the followers witnessed our... exchange," he went on to explain. "And though Padric did, he bore no anger towards you; as all heartseers, he possesses a great deal of insight, and he understood your actions. After he had helped Jonas and Morrison to find you, and you were safely healed, the two of us formulated an acceptable alternative for them to believe - that you and he had engaged in a drunken quarrel over some trivial matter, and that was why you had left. After we had agreed upon the story, I planted it in the minds of those who had witnessed the actual events. Padric insisted that I compel him to believe the lie as well, lest he accidentally expose the truth."</p><p>Hardin's eyebrow raised. "I'll be certain to thank him," was all he said. "And apologize for our argument."</p><p>Perfect. "You catch on quickly, Hardin. I hope you will be as quick when it comes to mastering the Dark."</p><p>And not as slow and stubborn as he was about certain other matters, Sydney thought to himself as he closed the door behind him. But that mattered little, as Sydney was not going to bring it up again. They had more urgent, more relevant things to handle now, even if he had not promised.</p><p>Upon a second thought, rather than starting for the dining hall himself, Sydney simply disappeared from the corridor, and reappeared atop the city walls. It was almost a shock to see full daylight; it seemed that days and days had passed since the ritual of dance the night before, and it had been dark ever since. It had suited his mood. The bright morning sunlight dancing upon the sea did not. The wine he'd had the night before likely contributed to his displeasure as well, at the moment.</p><p>But as the night was of the gods' creation, so was the day. He knelt there in silent meditation, eyes closed against the glare, opening himself to guidance, considering what had taken place, trying not to assign blame to anyone or anything. Including, with much difficulty, himself.</p><p>It had been his fault that Hardin had tried to leave. His fault that the Dark had found him in the Undercity. Could Hardin have left Leá Monde, if not for the blood he had drawn? Would that have been a choice he made for himself, one that he was allowed to make? Sydney found himself wondering if Hardin's "accidental" baptism into the Dark had in fact been an accident.</p><p>For Hardin was to be important in some capacity. If his speculation proved true, perhaps irreplaceable. Or perhaps not - it might be that he would endure his lessons, learn to control his talent, and then leave. Perhaps there would be another. Perhaps Sydney had guessed incorrectly, and he had seen Hardin in his dreams only because he was one who would stay and see this age through to the end.</p><p>Sydney could scarcely imagine it happening now, after the previous night. And the force with which Hardin refused to acknowledge his own feelings... just as he had previously been so defiant about accepting the truth of the Dark, or Sydney's abilities, or the gods they served. </p><p>Sydney opened his eyes, raising them wearily to the sky. <i>...What were you thinking, sending me this headstrong, obstinate man?</i> And if he had been chosen to be the successor... Sydney sighed aloud at the thought. <i>...He will be the death of me long before he ever has the chance to be the death of me.</i></p><p>Then again, Sydney had to admit, the high priest who had come before had likely thought much the same of him. If nothing else, Hardin lacked his arrogance - he would not have to be <em>taught</em> humility, and therefore was likely to be less exasperating than Sydney had been.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The tops of the city walls were a place Sydney often went to avoid interruption. Awkward to access for any who did not possess the particular talents Sydney possessed, but close to the keep where the brethren spent their days, in case someone had need of him. If true solitude was what he desired, there were more reliable places where no one would easily find him; the temple below the cathedral, or the roof of the great cathedral's dome. The walls, however, were a place he might take another to speak privately.</p><p>Or, perhaps to instruct someone in the ways of the Dark amidst all the elements, under the open sky, with a view of the entire city below. Such qualities were useful when it came to certain lessons, and thus was the case with Hardin's talent.</p><p>After a difficult evening, spent in Sydney's room once again, Hardin had reliably learned to allow the Dark to split his spirit, one might say. Sydney had never before worked with or witnessed the talent that Hardin possessed, and he had to puzzle out how it worked himself before he could understand how best to teach Hardin; he knew enough of the workings of the Dark to determine after the first few failed attempts that the initial problem lay in Hardin's inability to permit the Dark to in essence take a part of himself with it, as he tried to send it away. Either nothing happened at all when Hardin tried to scrye, or...</p><p>As he was also learning the process of using this talent, Sydney had been just slightly wrong about attempting to scrye unattended not being potentially dangerous. A few times, the entire spirit attempted to vacate, leaving Hardin's body little more than a corpse until Sydney quickly recalled Hardin to himself. It was fortunate they remained above ground, in the safety of the keep, Sydney thought wryly, for other spirits may have seen it as an opportunity. </p><p>Sydney did not dare mention that last bit to Hardin, of course. It was no fault of his own - the spirit resisted being sundered, and wished to remain whole within its familiar body until such a time as the body was uninhabitable. Sydney had seen similar troubles with those who had the talent of seeing through others' eyes, which was how he determined the problem. Usually such students learned to recognize what the Dark was doing, and to let go after a few tries - for it was, after all, a natural ability they had possessed since birth, though locked away. </p><p>For Hardin, it took hour after frustrating hour. This seemed strange, given how quickly Hardin had adapted to other aspects of the Dark, such as the mindspeak. But then, Sydney realized, it had never been Hardin himself working with the Dark; Sydney's compulsion frightened him, and one reason he'd adapted so quickly to the mindspeak was because the idea of others hearing the thoughts of his heart unsettled him enough to learn how to block as much of it as possible. The idea of the Dark affecting or invading his heart and mind was terrifying. The idea that it might take a part of his very being away? Hardin was so tense, his instincts so heightened and defensive, it was impossible to let go of even a small portion, even only a short ways. Likely the only reason he had been able to scrye successfully the first time was because it had been an accident; the alcohol had left him unguarded, and he did not know what was happening besides, that he might unconsciously attempt to stop it.</p><p>Now that he understood what was happening, and how, he held back. He did not say so, nor did he show it outwardly at all, except as frustration at his repeated failures, once even telling Sydney that he must have been mistaken, he obviously had no such talent, and there was no sense in continuing. Sydney, hearing the panic in his heart after he had once again come back to himself gasping for breath, shook his head and insisted. </p><p>Eventually, perhaps because Hardin's anger and shame over having failed so many times overcame his fear, something fell into place. His eyes closed, his spirit could move about the room and examine things with only the Sight - though attempting to answer Sydney's questions about what he saw would pull him back suddenly to his own body. That was good for a start, and Sydney had ended his first day of lessons there.</p><p>Part of the second day was spent relearning what he had learned the first day, for after a night's sleep to let his frustrations fade away, the old fears returned. But by that afternoon, Hardin could scrye beyond the room where they sat together,  proving that he possessed the power Sydney claimed he did, by witnessing sights and sounds elsewhere - the brethren passing by in the hall, the tokens that Sydney had left for him to find in other areas of the keep to verify that his Sight was true.  The third day was less of a struggle from the start, and Hardin managed to converse with Sydney while scrying, as well as exploring areas of the city that he had never visited in the flesh.</p><p>Once the initial barrier of Hardin's fear had been broken, he progressed well. As Sydney had thought, in spite of his stubborn resistance, Hardin was a fast learner once his soul was willing. He adapted easily to unusual situations once he had stopped denying them, taking in the facts of what was happening and acting accordingly. And perhaps, Sydney thought with amusement, Hardin's stubbornness was an asset. Once he had determined he should be able to do something, he most certainly would do it.</p><p>After the first few days, Sydney taught Hardin atop the city walls, pointing to a location elsewhere in the city and telling Hardin to scrye there, rather than his spiritual presence walking about. Hardin learned to do that quickly as well, though he needed to keep his eyes closed at first to keep distraction at a minimum.</p><p>Now Sydney had thought of a new exercise. He wasn't certain the power would work this way, since it was new to him as well as Hardin, but given the way in which it had first shown itself, it seemed likely. Hardin could scrye by way of his separated spirit moving about, and he could scrye by way of sending that fragment of spirit to manifest elsewhere if he could see the location or knew it well. </p><p>"Since you can scrye by focusing on a location," Sydney mused, "let us see if the Dark will take you to a person, as well as a place."</p><p>Hardin's eyes showed a flicker of interest; since he'd dispelled most of his wariness through so much practice, he was a much more engaged student. "Is that not what happened the first time?"</p><p>"I believe so," said Sydney. "But you have not tried it since. It would be useful to know whether or not you can do it at will." Hardin nodded, and Sydney considered. "Why not begin with someone you know well? Our friend Padric, for instance."</p><p>Hardin inhaled deeply - it was still his habit, when he was about to scrye, to physically prepare himself for the jolt of failure, though he had been successful nearly each time he had tried in the past day. Then he paused. "...I would not use this power to spy upon a friend without their knowledge."</p><p>"Of course not." It was such a typical sort of thing for Hardin to say, so resolutely noble, Sydney found himself amused. "You are not spying. You are learning. I very much doubt that Padric is doing anything he would not want you to see."</p><p>At that, Hardin ducked his head, smiling a small, self-deprecating smile. "I doubt he would."</p><p>That might have been the first smile Sydney had seen out of Hardin since... since before everything had changed. Since they had been mere men, something approaching friends, rather than teacher and student. It wasn't that Hardin was unhappy - wary, of course, and frustrated when the lessons did not go as he had hoped - it was more that they never spoke of much other than the Dark, and there was very little to smile about there.</p><p>Sydney's expression remained neutral, but he paused a moment to simply enjoy it. He'd missed Hardin's smile. Not that he could do anything about it, so he moved on. "Agreed. Think about our friend, Hardin. Think about the sense of him, the way he feels in your presence." Hardin's expression turned to a slight frown, but his eyes were distant; he was only concentrating. "Reach out, in the general direction Padric might be, and see if the Dark will help you to find him." </p><p>After a moment, Hardin's frown deepened. "I would assume he is somewhere within the keep at this hour..."</p><p>"A reasonable assumption."</p><p>"So down there..." Hardin's eyes drifted in the direction of the keep, off to the left of where they stood upon the walls. He paused a long time, then shook his head. "I sense nothing."</p><p>"Hmm." It did not help that Sydney wasn't certain how it would be done either. "Close your eyes."</p><p>Hardin sighed, faintly irritable, and Sydney knew why. "I know you have progressed past the need to limit distraction in most instances. This, however, is new."</p><p>"Yes, yes..." Resigned, Hardin did close his eyes. After a moment... "...I see the main corridor, but not Padric."</p><p>"Ah, when I suggested you should 'reach out', I did not mean to scrye as of yet," Sydney clarified. This part <em>should</em> be similar to how he found those he knew for the mindspeak when he was not sure of their whereabouts. "Keep your eyes closed, Hardin, but do not scrye, nor even attempt it. We have conversed before in only our hearts - do you remember what that was like?" Hardin nodded. "Remember how you simply thought the words you would say to me, focusing those thoughts in my direction. It is like that, but your focus should be on listening, rather than speaking. Open your heart, focus, as if you were trying to hear someone whisper from across a crowded room. But instead of listening for Padric's voice, listen for his presence."</p><p>Hardin's frown grew deeper as he tried to concentrate more fully, and a bit deeper still when it seemed to do nothing - but then his eyes opened in shock. He'd almost done what Sydney was asking unintentionally, it seemed, for he stepped back to lean against the parapet, putting a hand to his head as if dizzy. "I think I did find him. I could not scrye him, but..."</p><p>"You were startled back into ordinary consciousness, perhaps by the realization that you <em>could</em> find him," Sydney observed. "Sit, Hardin, and try again."</p><p>Hardin internally balked at this as well, for until just then, he'd had none of the kinds of failures in the past few days that resulted in him being jolted back into his body. He obeyed regardless, aware that it was best not to take chances. Now that he knew what he was looking for, almost instantly his eyebrows rose in mild surprise, and this time he did not open his eyes. "...I did it. I can see him. He and Kermiak and Marcellia are talking inside the storeroom. ...Discussing whether there is any need to hunt tonight."</p><p>With Hardin's eyes still closed, Sydney let himself smile more widely than he might have, surprised and pleased that Hardin had managed it so quickly. "Very good... and does the scrying feel any differently when you do it this way?"</p><p>Hardin shook his head. "I feel no difference."</p><p>"Then presumably the only difference is how the Dark decides on your destination," Sydney mused. "A useful thing to know. Return to me now, Hardin - I would like you to try something else." Padric was familiar to him, which was why Sydney had suggested using him as Hardin's first attempt. Padric would be easy for Hardin to recognize... but what of someone Hardin had not spent much time with, whom he didn't know so well? "Why don't you try the same, but with Fanella?"</p><p>Fanella largely kept to herself, she and Hardin had only spoken a few times in passing, and as Sydney had predicted, Hardin did not locate her so quickly as he had Padric. But with more time, and considerably more concentration, Hardin <em>was</em> able to hone in on her presence and scrye her watching the birds that soared through the open sky above the courtyard. </p><p>Again Sydney was impressed. The talent that had been granted to Hardin was remarkable on its own, and the ease with which Hardin had accustomed himself to using it after his initial hesitance suggested a very strong will, a natural aptitude for learning, or the potential for great power in the Dark. Possibly all three; Sydney could verify the first, occasionally to his own dismay, and the cleverness of their conversations implied he and Hardin were on similar footing when it came to intelligence. </p><p>As for the third... Sydney had seen Hardin in his dreams again, but still had not been able to determine whether or not Hardin might be the man he had foreseen before they had ever met. But if so, yes - he would certainly have to have potential.</p><p>Since he had not been able to confirm or deny, Sydney was not going to get ahead of himself. He was, however, curious to gauge the limits of this talent and Hardin's ability to use it. It was a pity Hardin had met everyone within Leá Monde, for it would have been an interesting challenge to see if the Dark would allow him to seek out and find a stranger. Also a pity that the brethren were almost certainly all within or near the keep, in one general direction from the two of them, and thus Hardin knew which way to focus his attention.</p><p>After a few more attempts at similar experiments, each taking less time and effort on Hardin's part, Sydney thought he might have found a way he could get around that. "Let us try something else now," he suggested. "Come with me, down into the city."</p><p>Hardin obeyed, following Sydney down the mostly ruined stairs that would take them into the town center. "What did you have in mind?" he asked.</p><p>"So far, you've been able to scrye a person, rather than a location," Sydney replied, "but it has always been rather obvious where the person you seek would be found, and in an area you know well. I wonder if it would be more difficult - and how much more difficult - to scrye a person if you did not know approximately where to find them. If they could be in any direction from where your body stands."</p><p>Hardin's brow furrowed thoughtfully. "...How would I focus towards them, if they could be anywhere?"</p><p>This was a concept that was difficult for Sydney to articulate, having been accustomed to the workings of the Dark for years; he couldn't have said how it was done. It was just... done. "You are the one who must focus," he said after a brief pause to think of how to phrase it. "But the Dark is the one that seeks the person you are focusing on."</p><p>Hardin looked dubious. "When you stand watch in the night," Sydney continued, "knowing that an enemy might come upon you, do you know the direction from which they might come? Do you listen in but one direction?"</p><p>"No..." </p><p>From the look on Hardin's face, he thought he was beginning to understand what Sydney was getting at, but was still missing some vital point that would tie it together. "Wherever the enemy might be," Sydney observed, "you will know when he approaches. The wind will carry the sound of his voice to you, the earth will carry his footsteps. And when they do, you will hear, and turn to face him."</p><p>"...So then. In the same way, the Dark would bring the sense of the one I seek to me, if I open my mind and listen for it."</p><p>"Very good, Hardin. Again, you catch on quickly." Sydney spared a small smile in Hardin's direction. "It makes the job of a teacher much more enjoyable when he is teaching an apt student."</p><p>Given Hardin's return to stoicism, Sydney was not surprised that only the barest hint of a pleased smile reached his mouth. Slightly more surprising was what Sydney heard, as Hardin had let his guard down. <i>It is too bad we're no more than teacher and student now.</i> </p><p>So Hardin regretted the loss of their more casual companionship as well... It could not be helped, Sydney reminded himself. Hardin needed instruction, and he needed it without distracting or troubling thoughts. Eventually he must face the other parts of himself that he shied away from, but they could not do him such damage as the Dark, or those who feared the Dark.</p><p>They walked on a bit further, closer to the center of the city, down a slope to the edge of the river that flowed through, and finally Hardin asked. "How will this change the exercise? Everyone is still in the keep, are they not?"</p><p>"Not everyone," Sydney answered. He stopped there - they were close enough - and turned to Hardin. "You are not in the keep... and I am not in the keep."</p><p>After a moment, Hardin nodded. "I see."</p><p>"Let us hope so." Sydney couldn't resist another smile, this one a bit more mischievous. "If you find yourself having any sort of trouble, call out to me, with your heart open. Just as I explained, the Dark will bring your words to me."</p><p>Again Hardin simply nodded. "Go ahead and sit down," Sydney suggested. "Make yourself comfortable, so that you will be relaxed, without any distraction." He knew, of course, that Hardin spent a good bit of his free time sitting by the river, which was why he had chosen this spot - it might help Hardin to remain calm if there were difficulties. "I suggest keeping your eyes closed, so that you can focus entirely on listening for the Dark's reply when it comes."</p><p>Hardin did so. "What am I to do when I find you? ...That first night, you seemed able to hear me, though I was not sure if you could see me..."</p><p>"I did hear you," Sydney agreed. "And I saw something like a shadow of you." Perhaps it was his talent as a heartseer, or the privilege of the Keeper, or the fact that they were within Leá Monde where the power ran through him so strong, that had allowed him to see and hear that portion of Hardin's soul that had visited him... Neither of them wanted to think about that night, though. "I assume that I will hear again - or if not, there is the mindspeak." Again Hardin nodded. "Now, before I go," Sydney told him. "While I am still beside you, listen. Though you know where I am, focus on how I feel, when my presence is relayed through the Dark. Each person has a particular rhythm. Familiarize yourself with mine."</p><p>Hardin was quiet for a moment, following Sydney's instructions. Then... "...Given how much time I have spent in these lessons with you for the past few days, your presence couldn't become much more familiar." Opening his eyes just slightly, he turned his head to look up at Sydney with another slight, wry smile.</p><p>The cautious attempt to lighten the mood, to lessen the emotional distance that had grown between the two of them, was utterly transparent. Sydney would have been annoyed, if it wasn't so oddly endearing. Caught between two opposing reactions and not knowing how to react, Sydney merely looked back at him, expressionless, and opted to go on with the exercise, increasing the physical distance between them within the blink of an eye.</p><p>He had not gone far, not wanting to make it too difficult for Hardin the first time. Only back up into the city, inside half a ruined building they had walked past moments before; if Hardin had been looking with his eyes, he could almost have turned around and looked. With the Sight with which Hardin looked, he could see through the wall between them.</p><p>Seconds ticked by, and Sydney was beginning to wonder, given the simplicity of this first attempt, if he should ask if Hardin was having any trouble. He'd grown used to Hardin succeeding in these exercises almost at once, if only for a moment before his success surprised him and his physical body was startled into consciousness. This <em>was</em> new, however, and Sydney was not there to guide him, so Sydney waited, pacing back and forth in the small space idly.</p><p>Just as he was about to contact Hardin, he turned, and Hardin was there. The fragment of his spirit was faded, near transparent, but it held the same sense of him as when Sydney had seen it in his chambers. "Excellent," Sydney told him, before Hardin's spirit had a chance to speak. "You found me, and I am in fact aware of your presence. Was there any trouble?"</p><p><i>No, no more than usual.</i> The shadow of Hardin smiled a small, satisfied smile. <i>Not once I sensed something, and comprehended what you said about listening. I could recognize the direction, just as I would have recognized the direction from which someone shouted in the night.</i></p><p>As Sydney had supposed he would, and he nodded. "Very good. Let us try it again."</p><p>This time, Sydney put more physical space between them, but went to a location Hardin was familiar with - the place further upriver where he often sat. The arrival of Hardin's spirit was not instantaneous, but it did not take as long. Sydney nodded approvingly. "Again."</p><p>Sydney had in part chosen the riverfront because it was in approximately the same direction as his previous destination, and familiar to Hardin; this time when he reappeared, it was in front of the cathedral, in nearly the opposite direction. Again there was a long pause before Hardin arrived, but he managed it without help. Sydney gave him another appreciative nod. "So you are in fact learning to listen to the Dark, when you do not know where to go."</p><p><i>Yes. I do not know what I am doing or how,</i> Hardin admitted, <i>but it feels as if I am casting about with a net until it catches something.</i></p><p>A metaphor Sydney had no experience with, but it seemed appropriate, and if it worked for Hardin, then it was useful. "Then let us try again," he said, and again changed directions from Hardin, reappearing on the walls where they had begun the day's lesson. It took almost no time for Hardin to follow. "Again..."</p><p>From the city walls, to the cellar with its casks of old wine, to the forest just across the river from where Hardin sat, to a roof in the town center, to the interior of the cathedral, straight down to the ancient temple beneath. Each time Hardin found him within seconds, sometimes almost instantly. "Very impressive," Sydney paused to tell him. "And to think you could follow me so easily without my guidance."</p><p><i>As I said, you have become familiar.</i> His tone didn't sound so light as it had earlier, though. <i>Sydney...</i></p><p>"Yes...?"</p><p>Though Hardin's heart spoke no words, his reluctance came through quite clearly. And then, very suddenly, he was gone.</p><p>Sydney frowned vaguely. He was not <em>overly</em> concerned, but...</p><p>Much as he expected, when he reappeared at the river's edge, Hardin had his knees drawn up, and was resting his head in his arms. "Why did you not tell me you were unwell?" Sydney asked, kneeling down at his side, reaching for the satchel he had brought.</p><p>"You gave me no chance," Hardin mumbled. "You kept moving..."</p><p>Hardin <em>could</em> have simply stopped following, Sydney thought, but said nothing. It was true he had not given Hardin a chance to speak. "Here," he said, uncorking a small bottle and pressing it into Hardin's hand. "Drink. It will help."</p><p>Hardin did so, steadying his head with one hand while he tipped it back to swallow. He grimaced faintly at the taste, but sighed, resting his head in his arms again. "Thank you..."</p><p>Sydney found himself very tempted to rest a hand on Hardin's back, or even put an arm around the man's shoulders. Though Sydney had tremendous power in the Dark, his position often required <em>using</em> it, sometimes for longer than was comfortable, or safe for a mortal. He was all too familiar with the discomfort that came from too much of the Dark, too quickly.</p><p>Instead, he simply took the empty bottle back, returning it to the satchel, and settled down more comfortably beside Hardin to wait. "You do not command your talent as one who is a novice in the Dark. At times I forget that you are still new to this, unaccustomed to its toll upon the flesh."</p><p>"My flesh is apparently glad to remind both of us," Hardin muttered. But already he looked steadier, and he lifted his head, shook it, still somewhat dazed.</p><p>The two of them sat in silence as Hardin rested, and the tincture began to work through him, restoring what had been depreciated. At last, Hardin stirred. "I think I am all right now. ...So that is what it feels like, too much of the Dark?"</p><p>"Presumably that was the trouble," Sydney replied. "Dizziness, shakiness... a sense within the mind that your body is an uncomfortable burden, a sense within the body that the soul is a foreign substance to be expelled...?"</p><p>"I could not have thought how to describe it, but that sounds right."</p><p>"Unlike spellcasting, where one channels the Dark through oneself, this talent is innate to you, an ability you possess in your own being - yet it does require a great deal of contact between the Dark and your very soul to use, and you have been making that contact for an extended time. I'm a bit surprised you hadn't reached your limits before," Sydney mused. "It speaks to your potential, I believe."</p><p>"Certainly you have pushed me to the point of exhaustion," Hardin muttered. "Just not to <em>that</em> point. Why do you insist on driving me so hard, day after day? I know you have two acolytes who are also new to the Dark. Why spend so much time training me, rather than the two who are yours, who voluntarily <em>sought</em> such power?"</p><p>"I am focused on you at present <em>because</em> you did not seek it," Sydney replied simply. "Because you are <em>not</em> one of us. We shall leave Leá Monde soon, and the fellowship of Müllenkamp will go where I go. You, on the other hand, may go wherever pleases you - and before that time, it would be best for you to know exactly what you are capable of, and how to control your talent completely. I have plenty of time to watch over Sara and Miklaus as they learn."</p><p>Hardin nodded, grudgingly. "...And then, too," Sydney added, after considering. "If I am being entirely honest - as I said, your aptitude for using your talent so well, so quickly, suggests immense potential. If you were one of us, I would be teaching you spellcraft. As you are not, I am... merely curious, to find out just what you can do with nothing more than your inborn gifts."</p><p>"...Hmm." Hardin did not seem flattered by Sydney's assessment.</p><p>"I would not push you beyond what your body or spirit can bear," Sydney told him. "With that in mind, now that you have recovered, would you care to try again?"</p><p>Hardin shook his head, still looking somewhat dazed. "I would much rather call it a day."</p><p>"Quite understandable." The tincture took the edge off the worst of the effects, but time and rest were the surest way to return to normalcy. "Well then..." This time, Sydney decided to rest a hand on Hardin's shoulder briefly after all, before getting to his feet. "We will resume tomorrow."</p><p>Hardin rolled his eyes slightly, and declined Sydney's offered arm, getting to his feet himself. "We will see."</p><p>It would almost have been humorous, had there not been an element of danger to it. The consequences of someone using too much of the Dark could be more severe than just the unsettling discomfort Hardin had experienced. And although Sydney had brought along a few remedies, just in case there was such a mishap while training Hardin, it was somewhat unusual that he should have reached the state he was in. Most mortals, upon spending too long in contact with the Dark or drawing too deeply, would simply <em>stop</em> - either because of the growing uneasiness they felt, or their ability to control the Dark would fail and it would slip away, becoming unresponsive.</p><p>Hardin had not used the Dark overmuch or overlong during his lesson, compared to the more experienced brethren or the casting of spells, but he had been working with it for longer and with more intensity than ever before. The fact that he had both the will to persist and the ability to use it even after it had become uncomfortable suggested that he had not even come close to reaching his limits - that his capacity for the Dark, already growing by the day, was immense. Few other than Sydney among the brethren had been able to summon, none of those who presently were with them, and only minor spirits; he suspected Hardin would be capable of that at the <em>least</em>, if he continued to train.</p><p>Which brought Sydney back to the same ponderings about Hardin that had already been preoccupying him. Such potential for power, and the ability to maintain control where most mortals would fall away, might indicate that he was destined to lead the fellowship of Müllenkamp once Sydney no longer was able.</p><p>Or it could mean that Hardin had more power than self-awareness, and if left unchecked, he might ignore the warning signs and draw too deeply, ending up dead - or worse - but Sydney did not think that likely. Not when both the dreams and the Lady had told him that in some capacity, Hardin was meant to join with them. </p><p>Neither had offered more insight on Hardin during the weeks they spent in Leá Monde, as the spring blossomed into fullness. Instead, as the time for their departure drew close, they offered clarity on a different and more imminently unpleasant decision that must be made. When it became clear that it must be, that there was no turning aside from what had been written long ago, Sydney summoned Padric to his room one afternoon, to share what he had seen and offer what counsel and truth and comfort as he could. It did not seem near enough to Sydney, no matter how well Padric responded - and both agreed, it would be best to tell no one, lest someone be tempted to avert fate and bring about something worse.</p><p>Sydney's thoughts were largely turned aside from Hardin after that. Their lessons continued, Hardin's abilities increased to the point that he could stand upon the cliffs <em>outside</em> the city and find Sydney within, and Sydney told him truly that he was impressed, but his thoughts were often elsewhere. He did what was required of him, however, and on their final afternoon within Leá Monde, having informed the brethren of his plans, he pulled Hardin aside privately. He reiterated that Hardin had shown great power through the Dark, and had learned to control it with remarkable skill. Hardin had learned all that he needed to manage his talent on his own, and if he wished to part ways after they had departed the city the following day, he was ready. </p><p>Immediately Sydney found himself wondering if what was to come was likely to make Hardin more or less likely to remain among them, and excused himself to see to the preparations that were being made. That was likely enough excuse for his preoccupation to Hardin, or anyone else who might have thought that he seemed distant and distracted, perhaps more so than usual.</p><p>Distant and distracted was the most acceptable manner he could adopt when among them. At night in his private room, he had not dared to invite anyone to share his bed, for such personal visions as he had been seeing upset him far more than the long-reaching dreams of apocalypse. And it seemed unnecessary to show him the precise details the night before they were to take place, but the visions came as they willed, not as Sydney willed, and this time they showed him exactly how it was to happen.</p><p>Swords and bright armor flashed, even in the filtered light through the trees looming overhead, for the magic darted among them to find its targets. Why was he seeing this? Shouts, screams, curses, the flutter of the red cloaks of the templars. Why, when there was nothing to be done? A sword aimed at one, barely blocked. Why? Why was there no other way? No time to block yet another. <i>Please... I don't want to see this... Not again. Please, no...</i></p><p>He'd had dreams such as this before, certainly, and the gods offered their answers to his pleas in their own way, but never before had someone responded with his name. <i>Sydney?</i></p><p>As real and vivid as the vision of the battle was, the voice was more so - and startling, for it seemed merely concerned, rather than urgent, and thus out of place. <i>Hardin?</i></p><p>
  <i>What is it, Sydney? What's happened? I... I can't seem to-</i>
</p><p><i>Hardin!</i> The battle continued around Sydney, within Sydney, though he knew it not to be real. ...Yet. He clung to the sound of Hardin's voice. Hardin, who knew of his dreams. Hardin... who would have woken him. Desperate and beyond the self-control he maintained while awake, he cried out. <i>I need... please... you can stop this. I know you can! Please, Hardin - I can't bear it!</i></p><p>But his plea came too late. Too many swords, too much ground to defend, the evaporation of flesh into spirit, sparkling like the snowflies-</p><p>Sydney woke sobbing, covering his face with a trembling hand as if he could stop himself from seeing what he had already seen, what was for now only within his memory, but soon... so soon... and he would not be able to avert his eyes, nor lose control...</p><p>
  <i>Sydney! Where are you?</i>
</p><p>...So Hardin's voice had <em>not</em> been a part of the dream. His words were real - he had tried to use the mindspeak, and even within the dream, Sydney had recognized the attempt and dropped their rhythms into rapport. And through that link, he felt that Hardin was worried, his panic growing nearly as strong as Sydney's for a split second... but before Sydney could think what to do, if something was wrong, a sudden flood of relief as Hardin woke from his own nightmare.</p><p>Sydney would have been further impressed by Hardin's aptitude - to open his mind in such a way while dreaming? - if not for the knowledge that Hardin had heard him in his childish moment of weakness, begging for relief. Relief that had not come, and would not come, for Sydney would see such terrible visions as these for the rest of his days. And this one...</p><p>Sydney already felt a stinging at his temple, for his bladed fingers were a danger even to himself when he lacked control. They trembled, they pricked his skin, and the pain was welcome. It distracted him, momentarily, from the pain within his soul, but not enough; he rose to his feet, wrapping his blanket around himself as he paced the floor, trying to concentrate on something else. Ritual prayers, perhaps, for the occasions when one could not find their own words... in the original Kildean, so that he must focus...</p><p>The soft knock upon his door made him start, though he was not entirely surprised that Hardin had not simply written off his cry for help as only a part of his own dream. Sydney considered ignoring it, pretending sleep. Hardin's talent meant he could see inside if he wished, but Sydney had not seen his spirit. He might have been distracted - their lessons had taught him that outside the city, he could not see or hear Hardin's spirit, and even inside it was not so easy when he was not actively watching for it - but also, Hardin had said he would not spy on a friend. </p><p>A friend. As if he would consider Sydney as such, after the weeks they had spent at arm's length, no more than instruction passing between them. Not that that meant Hardin would indiscriminately scrye Sydney any more than he would anyone else, but...</p><p>If Hardin had come knocking at this hour, either he was troubled, or he already believed that Sydney was. Sydney brushed at his eyes once again, took a deep breath, and went to answer the door.</p><p>One look at Hardin's face - and a moment of his heart, when he saw the small wounds on Sydney's otherwise composed face - was enough to tell Sydney why he was there. There was no sense in hiding it, then; Sydney stepped back, away from the door. "You're late, Hardin."</p><p>"Late?" Hardin inquired, as he entered and closed the door behind him.</p><p>"Yes, late." Already Sydney wondered why he'd let Hardin in. To explain what had happened, perhaps, to let Hardin know that all was well - except that all was <em>not</em> well, and Sydney did not want to explain, and he stopped pacing again almost as soon as he had resumed, nearly overcome at the memory that had caused him to call out. "...I was hoping that you might come and awaken me as you had said you wanted to do, weeks ago."</p><p>"Sydney..." The pity in his voice said plainly that he would have. "I... I'm sorry, I was dreaming..."</p><p>"So was I, when I heard you calling me." Such a strange coincidence, but Sydney couldn't think much upon it, given the dream he'd woken from. "So was I..." And damn it all, he felt another tear at the corner of his eye, and raised a hand to wipe it away.</p><p>Instead, his hand stopped short, caught at the wrist by Hardin, who looked as startled as Sydney was at his own audacity. "You've already cut yourself," he pointed out.</p><p>Bad enough that Hardin should see him like this, let alone restrain him, and Sydney pulled his hand away in a moment of sudden fury. "Do not touch me," he warned Hardin.</p><p>Possibly it came across more angrily than Sydney intended, for Hardin actually took a step backwards in alarm. "Sydney, I'm sorry, but-"</p><p>Sydney didn't care about Hardin's excuses, and he also hadn't meant to startle him. "I bear no grudge against you for it," he said, and returned to his pacing. He had been rattled too badly, he was breathing too heavily; if he was unable to regain control, he might faint, or become ill... He did not want Hardin to see that. "I should have known better than to allow the rapport in the first place."</p><p>Fortunately, Hardin was fully in control of himself, and said nothing, even reining in his heart. Sydney could almost forget he was there, focus on trying to calm himself, until Hardin spoke again. "Do you wish to talk about it?"</p><p>"No." Sydney's reply was immediate and firm.</p><p>"Then I suppose you would prefer to be left alone."</p><p>"No." Sydney had been so eager to refuse any offers of assistance or sympathy that the answer came automatically, before he realized what he had said. "Ah, yes."</p><p>Sydney's eyes were downcast, staring at nothing more than the stones set in the floor as he paced. There was a long, reluctant pause before he heard Hardin turn to go, as he had said would be best... but then he would be alone in this room to wait for the dawn, and all of a sudden he found himself calling out again. "No!"</p><p>Hardin's hand froze on the latch as he looked back, and Sydney took a deep breath. It was useless to try to retain any sense of dignity, when Hardin had already seen as much as he had. </p><p>And he was still willing to stay. </p><p>So... "...Hardin, please stay with me," Sydney asked quietly. He wasn't sure why, what purpose it would serve. But against all logical argument, for some irrational reason, at that moment, he wanted Hardin to stay. Or at the very least, he didn't want Hardin to leave.</p><p>Hardin didn't seem to know what he was to do either, other than to stand by watching helplessly as Sydney paced back and forth across the room. "Sydney," he offered, "you must calm down."</p><p>"Calm down..." Sydney muttered. "A simple thing for you to say, Hardin. For you, who does not believe in the gods or prophets."</p><p>"My belief or disbelief has nothing to do with it. I only meant-"</p><p>"Oh, does it not?" Sydney snapped. "Even if you had seen the things I have seen, you could simply let them fade away as a dream should, and not think upon it again. But I believe, Hardin - and soon you will as well!"</p><p>Which was saying too much. Perhaps it was good that Hardin did not believe, and could write off his words so easily. "Sydney, you're raving like a madman! Please, calm yourself before you make yourself ill. Sit down, take deep breaths, try to relax..."</p><p>As if that was not what he was trying to do. Sydney laughed faintly, without humor. "You sound like a child's nursemaid." But after a moment, he did opt to sit on the edge of the bed - he was growing dizzy. "Still thinking to look after your brother, are you?"</p><p>The words had slipped out before he thought better of it, intended to hurt - but apparently Hardin was too concerned about him to take the bait. "My brother has nothing to do with it either. What is this about, Sydney? You've had these types of dreams before, haven't you?"</p><p>Hardin was too kind for his own good. Sydney felt his anger and humiliation beginning to slip away... but that left nothing but fear and grief. "Yes," he admitted, "but it becomes no easier with time. If anything, it..." He had seen this manner of vision so many times, <em>so many</em>, and each one was a memory he would never allow to fade. Soon this one would be the same... Sydney swallowed against the tears that threatened to return, and shook his head firmly. "I cannot speak of it, nor do I want to."</p><p>"All right..." Hardin was still standing there, by the door, likely as uncertain as Sydney as to why he had been asked to stay. "Is there anything I can do for you? Perhaps a drink to relax your nerves..." He tilted his head slightly, assessing Sydney's condition. "Or perhaps a few."</p><p>Hardin's wry humor, even at such a time as this, broke through enough to make Sydney laugh slightly, shakily. "Thank you, Hardin, but it will be dawn soon, and we will be preparing to leave shortly after. It would not do for me to be in my cups then, and we have only a few..." The words nearly choked him. There were more reasons than the obvious that he needed to be fully sober and aware upon this day, as much as he wished he weren't. "Only a few hours before we are to depart. Hardin, perhaps I should have a drink after all - just a small one..."</p><p>"I'll bring some wine," Hardin told him. "Will that be suitable?"</p><p>Sydney nodded, closing his eyes wearily. "...Thank you, Hardin."</p><p>He was so tired. So very tired, of all of it. For days now he'd known what was to happen, and aside from Padric, he could say nothing, do nothing. Even to him - he could let his guard down a bit, speak earnestly, but he still had to remain calm and reassuring. The illusion of faith, of control, when he could do nothing, and he didn't understand why. The thought of that somber discussion was enough to make him nearly break down in tears again.</p><p>Which was why, when Hardin returned, Sydney had risen to pace around the room again, his breath still coming too fast and too shallow. "Ah, good... Hardin, thank you..."</p><p>The way Hardin looked at him as he set the cups down was painful, near humiliating, but mercifully, he did not give voice to it. "Think nothing of it. Doesn't everyone need a friend now and then?"</p><p>A friend. Just as it had crossed his thoughts when Hardin knocked - it would seem Hardin still considered him as such. "Perhaps you're right," Sydney murmured, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders as he came to sit on the bed again, accepting the cup when Hardin offered it.</p><p>The two of them drank in silence, sipping at the wine slowly, and Sydney gradually felt himself calming. It was not the wine so much, he thought, as Hardin. Having the man just... sitting there with him. Willing to let him be, not judging. Not expecting anything of him, accepting him as he was, even in this weakness. </p><p>This was not the first time, of course. That night when Sydney had found Hardin watching him in the night, it had been much the same between them, though this time Sydney had no need to explain. This was just who Hardin was, Sydney supposed, or maybe who he had become, after so long caring alone for his brother. Being a patient, watchful eye, offering what comfort he could to one who was beyond true comfort.</p><p>Or it could be something Hardin offered him alone, specifically because of that newly-acknowledged unconscious attraction. Sydney dared to lift his eyes, at the risk of meeting Hardin's.</p><p>He didn't, quite, but the slight motion was enough for Hardin to notice. "Feeling better, are you?" he asked.</p><p>Sydney gave him a small nod. "Yes, somewhat."</p><p>"That's good."</p><p>Sydney let his gaze fall back into the cup he held between his hands, no longer shaking as they had been. The small injuries he'd inflicted earlier still stung a bit, and he might do something about that, but he didn't want to move, or speak any incantation. The glimpse of Hardin's face had indeed shown that Hardin was watching him, but not with desire. At least, not physical desire. A desire, perhaps, to help, but no more. It might have been exactly what Sydney needed.</p><p>It also might have been something Sydney had given up on long ago, something he had been guarding against ever since. Or worse yet... it might be that Sydney was projecting, for at the moment, he thought that sitting quietly with Hardin was a comfort that nearly surpassed time spent in meditation alone with the gods.</p><p>Or more likely, he was just weary, vulnerable, looking for answers where there were none to be found. Which reminded him of exactly what he'd eagerly let himself become distracted from. How long had they been sitting there? How soon...</p><p>"Hardin?"</p><p>"Yes?"</p><p>"Talk to me," Sydney said quietly. "About anything at all, except this."</p><p>"...All right. Well then..." There was a long pause, and even that made Sydney nearly smile. It was like the man he'd come to know to immediately agree to do something to help, only to realize he wasn't sure how. "I've decided to stay on with Müllenkamp for the time being," Hardin said at last. "You know my faith is weak, but after the past weeks, it is no longer entirely non-existent."</p><p>That made Sydney smile softly in earnest. Whether or not Hardin was to join them, because of destiny or his own choice - if he had brought Hardin closer to some sort of spiritual awareness, he considered it a good thing.</p><p>"Perhaps if I stay," said Hardin, "I can make some sense out of everything... so much has gone wrong in my life, and the weeks I've spent with you and the brethren have been a time of peace. I know not where else I might find that peace, if I were to depart."</p><p>...Or if he did not. The slight smile disappeared, Sydney's eyes closed. This very day, Hardin may change his mind.</p><p>"The brethren have been good to me," Hardin continued. "Padric and Duncan have been the first honest friends I can recall having since childhood. Gods!" he chuckled lightly. "And to think we nearly killed each other when we first met! Who'd have thought we would become brothers in arms, let alone friends? And you, Sydney - I owe you a great debt, despite the differences we have had. I... suppose I must apologize for the accusations I made against you as well. I was speaking out of fear, in my own blindness... but then, you know that. If nothing else, I can offer you my sword-arm for a time as recompense, for it seems as though you could use another, if the cardinal's men- ...Sydney?" </p><p>He had stopped abruptly, when it had become too much for Sydney to bear, and Sydney had covered his face with his hand, his shoulders trembling. "What is it?" Hardin asked. Sydney did not trust himself to reply, nor even to take his hand away from his eyes - more so when, receiving no answer, he heard Hardin get up and come to kneel before him.</p><p>He pulled away suddenly, as he felt Hardin's hand come to rest upon his shoulder. "Don't touch me, Hardin," he said, managing to recover some of his composure. Enough to put the cup down, and wrap the blanket around him tighter. "I cannot bear it now... and besides, your own kindness betrays you. Do not let concern for me cause you to do anything you will regret."</p><p>It took a moment for Hardin to understand what he meant, but then he shook his head firmly. "I may still be unsure of... of what I feel... but it doesn't matter. What I am certain of now is that something has hurt you deeply."</p><p>He was so sincere. Sydney kept his eyes averted; he wasn't sure he trusted <em>himself</em> not to take advantage of Hardin's feelings. Whatever, precisely, they may have been. "It is not as if I am unfamiliar with pain."</p><p>Hardin said nothing, nor did he move. He merely remained at Sydney's feet, presumably looking up at him with <em>that look</em> on his face, so close to Sydney's. Sydney could not scrye the way Hardin did, seeing without his eyes, but he could still see it within his mind, and he did not dare look to confirm it. "Go on back to your bed, Hardin," he murmured, his breath again coming too fast. "It is nearly dawn, and the brethren will wake soon..." His voice broke at the last, and he closed his eyes tight, trying to pull himself together before he lost control again.</p><p>His efforts failed, but not in the way that he had feared; moments later, the bed shifted, and Hardin's arms were closing around him. Before, Hardin's embrace had been soothing, but in Sydney's current state of near-panic, it was as if he were being trapped, smothered...</p><p>Sydney had lived so long with the Dark as a part of him, it protected him as instinctively as any other part of a person's being might - for instance, a fist lashing out. This time it was Hardin who fell backwards, thrown against the wall by the force of the Dark, as it lashed out in self-preservation. "I told you not to touch me!" Sydney ranted, staring down at Hardin in fury.</p><p>Unlike when their positions had been reversed some weeks past, Hardin simply stared back in shock, not moving an inch. "Forgive me, Sydney," he said breathlessly.</p><p>...Why did he have to be so understanding? The reflexive rage drained away from Sydney, leaving only shame and dismay as he looked down at Hardin trying to catch his breath, looking up to him with surprised, hurt eyes.</p><p>Sydney's fists clenched, his jaw tightened. None of this would help. Nothing would help. Gathering up what fragments of control he could, he turned away. "Hardin, go back to bed," he whispered. "Tomorrow will be busy."</p><p>"Yes. Of course."</p><p>Sydney heard the shuffling as Hardin got to his feet, heard the door close behind him, and let himself sink down on the bed again. Now he had even more to feel terrible about, with an impossibly difficult day still ahead. Hardin was one of those who would no doubt be devastated enough without Sydney's pain inflicting more wounds beforehand.</p><p>And, as he had told Hardin, it was nearly dawn. The brethren would wake, not knowing that one of them would not lie down to sleep that night.</p><p>Sydney had let himself succumb to despair too long already. They would need a sure, strong high priest to lead them through their own. He made himself breathe deeply, healed the stray cuts his fingers had left on his face, got dressed for the day. Still too rattled to face those who depended on his peace to maintain theirs, rather than leaving his room for the common areas, he simply vanished.</p><p>Not to the city walls this time, for this was a time when he desired complete solitude. The temple did not suit him at the moment - he needed fresh air and light, so instead he went to the roof of the cathedral, sitting at the base of the great gilded rood that topped the dome. But he had no prayers left that he had not prayed, he was too upset for meditation.</p><p>Instead, he stood again, restless and helpless, and watched the sun rise over their city one last time.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Padric was awake early, of course. Making the rounds as always, helping prepare for departure, just as on any other day of travel, of course. Seeing him among their brethren, smiling at their jokes, acting as if nothing at all were out of the ordinary, gave Sydney a certain measure of calm that he had been lacking since his revelations.</p>
<p>Yet once Sydney had made certain he was fully composed, he had to silently call him aside, to make sure. In light of the details Sydney had seen in the last dream...</p>
<p>But Padric shook his head, as they walked alone atop the city walls. "It matters not. I have made my peace with gods and men - and much of that is due to you, Duncan, and others among our brethren. I could not say if anyone else among us is thus prepared, but I can speak for myself. I am ready."</p>
<p>For all that Sydney had intended to play his usual role as high priest, offering words of wisdom and comfort as needed, he found that Padric might be doing a better job of it. But he merely nodded, his expression carefully neutral as he admitted, "Then you are likely more enlightened than many of your brethren. I doubt very much that any of the rest of us are ready for this."</p>
<p>Padric sighed faintly, gazing out in the direction of the keep, the sounds of speech and laughter. "That is my one concern. Duncan will not take it well, of course. Kermiak... he was also a soldier, I suppose he will understand. I would think Hardin as well, but... he has lost so much, and he has no faith to comfort him."</p>
<p>That was much the same assessment Sydney had made, which vaguely left him wondering if Padric had also guessed just how much <em>he</em> would be affected - how much he was <em>already</em> affected - by what was to come. At this late hour, perhaps it was permitted for Sydney to acknowledge... or perhaps it was the most inappropriate time to show himself as anything but resolute and unshakeable.</p>
<p>Fortunately, there was an appropriate way for him to express this to Padric within their appointed roles, priest and pilgrim. Sydney bade him kneel, but only because Padric was taller than he; taking Padric's head between his palms, Sydney pressed a warm kiss against Padric's brow. Padric was not one of those with the inclination towards sharing Sydney's bed, but Sydney's love for him was no less for being entirely chaste. "You are," he murmured seriously, "a blessing to us all. Though I would welcome your soul a thousand times, should you remain at rest, it is well-deserved."</p>
<p>Padric simply bowed his head. "Thank you. I suppose... I will find out."</p>
<p>The small, hopeful smile on his lips when he raised his head again drove away much of Sydney's grief. Padric spoke truly - he <em>was</em> at peace. He understood. And was that not the best outcome one like Sydney could hope for, for one of those who had chosen to follow him? </p>
<p>Even so, when Sydney returned to his room to gather up the last of his personal effects before they were to set out, he paused at the sight of the cups and the unfinished bottle of wine that Hardin had brought. It would be so much simpler to to behave as if nothing was wrong if he could force himself to stop thinking so much. Unfortunately, what would be needed of him would require focus and self-control. He didn't dare.</p>
<p>But after... Sydney drank down the small amount left in one cup, emptied the other, and put them in his satchel with the recorked bottle. If he didn't need it afterwards, likely someone would. </p>
<p>Shortly thereafter, the brethren set out as they had planned, heading for the road that would take them east, towards a village called Fentegel. It was small, unimportant, governed only occasionally and casually by a regional lord. The people who lived there were willing to offer shelter and work for the summer season, and had no love for the nobility or the church that generally ignored their presence. They knew the disciples of Müllenkamp more closely than the disciples of St. Iocus, and that Sydney's followers had always treated them with dignity and respect, earning their place and taking no more than was needed. It was a journey they had made before, and nothing at all seemed to be out of place as the small band of travelers made their way, the cart keeping pace with those who walked.</p>
<p>Sydney was one of those who walked, and towards the front of their number. This was not unusual, but served another purpose on this particular day; he knew that something was to happen, but did not know when... until, suddenly, he did. </p>
<p>Those close enough to see his hand raise abruptly came to a halt, and those further back followed suit. "We have company," he called out to his followers, turning back to face the majority of their party. "It appears the cardinal has set his sights on us once again. Armed men lie in wait for us within the forest."</p>
<p>The mood among them darkened immediately, but Sydney had done this before. He knew what was expected of him, and he would play his role. "It will do no good to wait them out; undoubtedly they will have brought ample supplies for a siege, and they control the roads as well, while we have little food remaining. We may as well take them now - perhaps we can even surprise them, by not allowing them to surprise us." A few chuckles from those listening told him his light words were having the desired effect - dispelling fear, inspiring confidence - and he continued. "They number more than we do, perhaps by as much as two score. Considering that we can control the Dark and they cannot, I would venture to say that it shall be a very unfair fight - for them."</p>
<p>It... hurt, in a strange, bittersweet way, to see them smile, to hear them laugh, though he was smiling himself for their sake. ...What would be would be. "Let us pair off, one fighter with one sorcerer where possible," he instructed them, "and travel a little closer together than usual. That way they shall also be close together should they choose to surround us, and we will be ready to strike as soon as they appear, before they can make their way into our midst. Those who are paired with fighters will be at the edge of our party, while the others remain in the center, around the cart, but not too close together, mind you." He paused, entirely for dramatic effect, and gave them a smirk. "And all of you who can call the elements, please do refrain from calling flame or lightning in the midst of the trees this time - I dare say our encounter with the templars in Suendia last year was shorter than our efforts to put things right afterwards."</p>
<p>And thus everyone was in good spirits as Sydney walked among them, assigning fighters and sorcerers their partners. Hardin presented a slight problem; although Kermiak had done some sparring with the man and reported he was quite possibly as good a swordsman as Padric, he had never fought in a battle alongside spellcasters before. After some thought, Sydney partnered him with Branla - though she was a fairly talented spellcaster, she'd taken an interest in swordplay as well, and some of the men had been teaching her. If Hardin's inexperience made him falter, likely she could defend both of them until he collected himself. Also, as she'd taken part in plenty of similar battles, he offered her the silent suggestion that perhaps she might explain to him how they were to work in tandem.</p>
<p>Several of the others had preferred partners - best friends, lovers, or simply those with whom they happened to work well. Duncan and Padric were already standing together, conversing about something entirely unrelated, when Sydney came upon them. On any other occasion, it would have been absurd to even ask, and so today, he asked it lightly, as if it were no more than a joke. "Padric, I suppose you wouldn't object to being paired with Duncan?"</p>
<p>"Ha - never." His smile was just a bit tighter now than it had been earlier, as the time drew nearer, but he was determined.</p>
<p>"Aye, why would we be changin' up a good thing?" Duncan added with a laugh.</p>
<p>Why indeed? Sydney nodded, resting a hand on the arm of each. "Would that all among us might find so steadfast a friend as the two of you have found in each other," he murmured, before moving on.</p>
<p>With preparations made and instructions given for the battle, they began to move on, along the road that led into the forest. Sydney could feel their adversaries ahead - their anticipation, their anxiety. No doubt they knew of past battles with the followers of Müllenkamp, and at least some of them understood just what they were facing. ...At least, in part. Sydney had a secret weapon of sorts at his disposal to be unleashed, and it rarely allowed for survivors to return and tell the cardinal what had happened.</p>
<p>Soon, the sense of the enemy was not only before them, but around them. Hidden in the forest, as Sydney had expected, thinking to surround their prey. At least some of the others among them would have seen or sensed the same, but for now, the brethren waited, pretending they had not noticed. They continued on as if everything was normal... until, upon rounding a bend, they spotted someone standing in the center of the road ahead, flanked by approximately a dozen heavily-armored knights. And, as it turned out, that someone was someone that Sydney had encountered before...</p>
<p>"Well met, Father Lachus!" Sydney called out, with obviously excessive cheer. "It has been some time, has it not?"</p>
<p>"Well met indeed! For today is the day your heathens will find true salvation, Losstarot, if they but repent and turn from the evil path you've led them down. Even your sheep, filthy and wretched though they are, may be cleansed and be welcomed into our fold."</p>
<p>Exactly the kind of reply he would have expected from one of the very pious Crimson Blades, and all the more amusing because Sydney knew perfectly well that this one meant none of it. Though some of the cardinal's men were earnest in their faith, Father Lachus was not. His devotion was to himself, and the power afforded him by his position.</p>
<p>And it never hurt to demoralize the enemy a bit before battle. "Oh my - how generous of you!" Sydney mocked him, stepping forth from among his followers to face him directly. "And when you say salvation, Father, just what do you mean? Salvation..." he mused, taking in what the Dark offered of the man's heart. "Salvation can mean so many things, as I'm sure you're aware, Father. The villagers far to the north, where your men traversed for the last year... was salvation what you brought to them?"</p>
<p>"Yes, it was, but that has naught to do with you."</p>
<p>"Ah, I see!" Sydney replied. "This salvation of yours - it means to remove all traces of sin from the flesh by way of fire! And salvation occurs when peasants starve, children die, because they are forced to feed an army greater than their land can support with the small amounts of grain that can be grown in its poor soil."</p>
<p>They had been through this sort of thing before, Sydney and Lachus, but clearly the commander did not know when to give up. "Lies. It is true we burned witches - those who would not repent. For those who did, as I pray your followers will have the wisdom to do, forgiveness was granted, and they entered into the holy fellowship of God. And certainly we are not responsible for the poor harvest they endured that year."</p>
<p>"It was no poorer than years past, Father. In fact, I do believe they received a bountiful crop indeed - no doubt due to your blessed presence." Sydney offered him a bow just as mocking as his cheerful tone. "And yet, they suffered many losses due to hunger and disease," he mused. "How very strange... Could not your powerful god have provided supplies for his army, instead of simply laying out a harsh plan of taxes and tributes that left many innocents destitute, unable to buy food?"</p>
<p>"We are not gods, but men - earthly beings who must attend to their own earthly needs," Lachus replied, continuing to regard Sydney with a haughty look. "Those villagers who died were taken by God to abide with him after they had repented of their sins. Perhaps he decided in his wisdom that they had endured enough; the life of those who dwell in the north is an ardous one. Indeed, what was given to us from the people of Gorilan was given as payment for the protection we offered from the bandits who plague them each year."</p>
<p>"Ah, I see I have misunderstood. That could not be the kind of salvation you offer my followers, as they are harried by none but yourself," Sydney observed, and was pleased by the semi-stifled laughs among those behind him. The Dark seemed to be enjoying the provocation as well, and as it was prone to, was offering Sydney more. "Perhaps, then, you meant the kind of salvation you would like to give Brother Rohan, who serves now as your second. The kind of salvation you fantasize about as you watch him run through sword drills, and as your men bathe under your very watchful eye."</p>
<p>There were a few indignant, uncomfortable exclamations behind Lachus, who glanced back in alarm before he could help himself. "What!? How dare you!" he snapped, furious. And perhaps, just perhaps, Sydney thought, somewhat humiliated. "Lies - again, lies! You seek to cause dissent among my men, but they are not so foolish as to believe the ludicrous accusations of a heretic such as yourself. All know it is you and your kind who engage in such filthy activities, witch - not the likes of us!"</p>
<p>Sydney raised his arms in a simple shrug. "That I will not deny," he said, turning his back to the knights and their commander, simply because it would annoy them that he had such little regard for the danger they posed. As for his own followers, they were prepared to react if the knights so much as twitched, and Sydney smirked, picking out a few familiar faces among them. "What say you, Aiden?"</p>
<p>"I say if such activities are filthy, then let me remain steeped in it."</p>
<p>Sydney gave him an approving nod. "And you, Jared?"</p>
<p>"I've no care for the Father's 'salvation' - he appears stiff, boring," Jared replied. "He does not look as though he would be as exciting a lover as you, Sydney."</p>
<p>Sydney grinned, and many of the brethren laughed. Jared, as usual, did not disappoint. "Thank you, dear Jared," Sydney replied, and gestured to another who would undoubtedly be glad to rise to the occasion. "And what think you, Gwynn, love?"</p>
<p>Taking the hint, Gwynn stepped forward from among them, resting an arm around Sydney's waist with a very suggestive posture, as the two of them turned back towards the knights. "I agree with Jared. I'm sorry to disappoint you, Father, but I simply do not find you as attractive as Sydney," said Gwynn, before leaning forward for a light kiss on the lips.</p>
<p>"Hmm, how sad," Sydney remarked, looking anything but. Gwynn slipped away, back to his appointed place among the brethren, who were mostly laughing at their priest's antics. "It looks as though my followers would rather remain in their sinful ways than accept the salvation you so generously offer, Father. Truly it is a shame, but we have someplace to go..." Sydney made a shooing gesture in their direction with one hand. "So if you would kindly move your men...?"</p>
<p>"Never, Losstarot." Lachus was furious, humiliated, revolted. "We have been sent in the name of the blessed St. Iocus to purge the land of the evil you spread - and if your followers refuse to repent and walk in the light, then they will die in their sins, just as you will when the examiners are through with you."</p>
<p>Sydney shook his head in slow exasperation. Lachus's hand was on his sword - the time drew near. "The problem with your 'light'," he said, abandoning the mocking for the simple speaking of truth, "is that those who stare intently upon it will lose their vision. Just as many of your men, who refuse to believe what I have seen within your heart - many, Father, but not all! - for they are blinded by your light, and cannot see where the shadows truly fall. It is not the Dark that casts shadows upon mankind, but the light."</p>
<p>"More blasphemy and lies," Lachus reiterated, tense and stubborn. "I hear tell that you do not die easily, Losstarot, and that is just as well, for the examiners want you brought in alive. But I'm very interested in seeing just how unpleasant this rumored 'immortality' of yours can be made."</p>
<p>"Then you are welcome to try, Father Lachus." At the flash of Sydney's sword, the brethren followed suit behind him, setting themselves for battle. "Though the despicable deeds and desires I have seen within you have already made my day far more unpleasant than anything you could do with your sword," Sydney told him, "you may try."</p>
<p>"Well then..." Lachus drew his sword and raised it, calling out to his dispatch of Crimson Blades, behind him and in the surrounding woods. "Let us purge the land of their perversity! Kill all but the prophet!"</p>
<p>It was ironic in a sense, that the brethren should be at the forefront defending him when he could not die. But neither could he be taken - if he was, their lives would be forfeit. Thus the warriors and mages among them protected him, and those who could neither fight nor cast, some sheltering beneath the cart, others with their backs against it. Sydney climbed up to where he himself would be of the most use, atop the crates piled high upon the cart, giving him a good view of the battle as the knights rushed in from every direction. Many were struck down long before they came close by the brethren's spells; his own picked off a few more that had evaded them.</p>
<p>But more knights were in reserve, still in hiding, and a second wave rushed out. They were intending, Sydney observed, to exhaust the spellcasters before truly attacking. A somewhat better plan than he had seen the Blades use in past battles, and it might have actually worked, had Sydney not long ago prepared a surprise for those opponents who fought particularly well.</p>
<p>The spellcasters were tiring, but the brethren's swords would provide them a respite, and give Sydney enough time - for he needed to abandon the battle and focus on a magic only he among them could work. Beneath him on the cart, an elaborate circle had been engraved, no less potent for the crates that currently obscured it from human sight. Stepping up to the front, Sydney faced the center and began the lengthy incantation, reciting the words of power as the flash of the spells and the sounds of the swords faded from his mind. His inflection needed to be perfect, his will absolute... </p>
<p>Above the cart, the gateway began to open with a howl of wind and a brilliant light pouring through from the planes beyond. Raising his hand, Sydney beckoned - and the Stalker came forth as he had petitioned. An enormous suit of armor armed with a similarly enormous sword, empty of flesh but filled with the Dark, Sydney silently welcomed it with a smile, and informed it of where he required its assistance.</p>
<p>In order for the Stalker to distinguish between friend and foe, Sydney had to hold back from further spellcasting, expend his energy and attention solely on directing the creature as it leapt down from the cart, landing before the Blades that had drawn closest. This too was not an unfamiliar tactic to the brethren, and those nearest left their place in the formation to assist their fellows elsewhere; the Stalker could defend as well as half a dozen swordsmen - more, if not for the proximity of those Sydney told it to be cautious of.</p>
<p>In all the precision the summoning required, and the ecstasy of so much of the Dark flowing through him, binding him to the otherworldly creature, Sydney had almost forgotten what had troubled him so about the battle. But when the last of the Crimson Blades had either perished or fled, and Sydney returned the Stalker to the realms from which it came, the commotion at one side of the cart brought it all rushing back.</p>
<p>"Well done! Anyone who is not too weary, heal the wounded!" He spared only a moment for the most basic of instructions before climbing down from the cart and heading immediately for the sound of Duncan's voice, swearing both curses and oaths.</p>
<p>He found the man being restrained by some of his fellows, who had him by the arms and shoulders as he struggled in their grip. Kermiak spotted Sydney's approach from his place at Duncan's left arm and raised worried eyes to him. "Thank the gods, Sydney - talk some sense to this man!"</p>
<p>"We lost Padric," Aryn explained quietly, rushing to meet him. "And if Duncan doesn't calm down-"</p>
<p>Sydney cut him off with a brief nod. "At such a time, who is to say what 'sense' is...?" he remarked, his voice calm as he and Aryn came to stand before Duncan. There was nothing more that could be done now - his grief and his frustration would make no difference - and they needed their high priest now. Especially Duncan. "It is not unreasonable to rage against the loss of a friend, to desire vengeance."</p>
<p>Duncan had fallen silent as he spotted Sydney, though he still tried to yank himself free from the grasp of Kermiak, Jonas, and Landrik, who were holding him as still as possible. "Sydney, they killed Padric," he said breathlessly, "they bloody killed 'im, I'll hunt down ev'ry last one o' the bastards, I swear it-"</p>
<p>"Duncan," Sydney murmured, and rested a hand upon his shoulder, which sagged in despair at his gentle tone and touch. "Will you speak with me?" he asked. "Just you and I." He knew that Duncan wouldn't appreciate patronizing remarks - that he needed to calm himself, that Sydney understood, that they all felt the loss. Duncan was much more likely to respond to a plain-spoken request from Sydney, whom he considered the next best thing to one of the gods themselves.</p>
<p>Sure enough, after a moment, Duncan nodded sullenly. He still pulled himself away roughly when the others decided it was safe to relinquish their grip, giving them a glare as he turned to follow Sydney away from the rest of the brethren. The bodies of the knights lay strewn around the road, and Sydney said nothing as he heard Duncan pause for a moment to curse under his breath and kick one of them. Sydney could not blame him in the slightest.</p>
<p>"Duncan," Sydney said again, quietly, once they were at the side of the road, mostly out of earshot of the others. Just hearing his name spoken calmly by Sydney seemed to have a quieting effect on Duncan, grounding him, driving away some of the impetuous thoughts that his heart was <em>screaming</em>. To go after every last one of the Blades that had fled, to make them pay... "Duncan," he repeated. "There will be a time. The one who slew Padric has also been slain, has he not?"</p>
<p>"Do it matter?" Duncan grumbled, his anger bubbling over again. "Ev'ry one o' those bastards would've killed 'im if that one hadn't gotten 'im first. They all want t' slaughter us, why shouldn't we slaughter 'em first? Let me go, Sydney, let me go take down every one o' them-"</p>
<p>"Duncan." Again, Sydney tried to bring him down from his blind rage. "There <em>will</em> be a reckoning. The gods do not look fondly upon those who would destroy their servants. Though you have a useful talent and a handful of spells at your command, you - indeed, all of us combined - could not take down the entire church and all its knights."</p>
<p>"I don't <em>care</em>," Duncan said vehemently, hanging his head in sudden shame. "I should be dead anyway. It should've been me, Sydney. That sword was comin' at me, Padric stepped between us."</p>
<p>"And he chose to do so, because he wished to protect your life," Sydney reminded him. "Every time you and he fought at each other's side, you were both aware that your life might be lost. You fought so well together because you were <em>both</em> fighting to protect the other. Your own words tell the truth of it now - if it had been Padric about to take a mortal wound, and you could have taken it for him, you would have."</p>
<p>Duncan could not deny that, and he was left with no argument. "We cannot change what has happened," Sydney continued, quiet and firm. "All we can do now is grieve our loss. Padric has gone to the gods we serve, and he served them selflessly. Anger will not bring him back to us, neither will throwing your life away in a futile attempt at revenge. Remember, Duncan, he died so that you would not."</p>
<p>Anger was likely safer in Duncan's mind than any other emotion he might feel at the moment. "What do it matter, Sydney? I would've..." He recognized the truth in Sydney's words, however. "Gah, those bloody butchers!"</p>
<p>"They <em>will</em> answer for those that they have murdered," Sydney assured him again. "But we must focus on the tasks prepared for us, and trust that the gods have control over the matters too large for our hands alone." Duncan's fists clenched furiously, but he remained silent. "And," Sydney added, "upon this day, we will take a moment to honor Padric, and then we must move on, knowing that his memory lives on within us all. I promise you, he will not be forgotten by any who knew him, nor will his sacrifice."</p>
<p>Again Duncan said nothing, but gave Sydney a tense nod, his fists still clenched. That was likely the best that he could manage for now, Sydney thought, and gestured for Duncan to follow.</p>
<p>While he'd been speaking to Duncan, word seemed to have spread. Many of the brethren now gathered where Sydney had found Duncan, all looking solemn, some with tears in their eyes. Hardin was among them, but merely looked puzzled. </p>
<p>Padric had been right about Duncan not taking it well, and seemingly right about Kermiak's pragmatism. Sydney wondered if he was also going to be proven right about Hardin, and for a moment the sadness he'd been stifling resurfaced. He agreed with Padric - Hardin had suffered so much already, far too much for someone so kind, and he had just managed to find some peace again...</p>
<p>But Sydney had to attend to his followers, and so he stifled his worries about Hardin. Not everyone was gathered yet, he observed upon looking over those assembled. Some of those missing were the most talented healers - no doubt doing as he had instructed. "We shall wait until everyone is present," he told those already standing by. "It should not be long before the wounded are healed sufficiently."</p>
<p>If they had had time, if they had not been on a public road, there might have been a proper memorial ceremony. Under the circumstances, that was not possible, but they could at least come together now to share a moment of grief. When they stopped to rest for the night, Sydney thought, they could share their memories in full, and he could offer what wisdom he had to those who required more. But for now...</p>
<p>"I wouldn't be nothin' <em>but</em> bloody serious!" Pacing back and forth idly, Sydney heard Duncan's voice rise again behind him, and the reaction within Hardin's heart that told him what the two of them were discussing. "My best friend just <em>died</em>, Hardin!" Duncan was exclaiming, as Sydney turned back to approach the two of them. "What do it matter if he vanished, or left his mortal body behind, or turned into a-"</p>
<p>"Peace, Duncan," Sydney told him firmly, resting his hand on Duncan's shoulder. "He did not know... that is my fault."</p>
<p>That was enough to silence Duncan for the moment, and Sydney addressed Hardin's questions. "I should have warned you," he admitted. "In all my concern for your training, it slipped my mind... and besides, it is not a subject that happens to come up often. You see, Hardin, those who serve the Dark do not die as normal men; as Duncan said, they leave no trace of their physical body behind." </p>
<p>Hardin frowned, his brow furrowed in the unsettled disbelief that was so typical of him, so familiar to Sydney by now. They did not have the time, nor did Sydney have the inclination to explain in detail just yet, or counter Hardin's inevitable dubiousness. The summoning had been strenuous, and his guidance was needed by all of the brethren. "We can speak of it later," Sydney told him. "You are not the only one who is distressed at the moment." </p>
<p>Still Hardin said nothing, and though he was doing remarkably well at masking his thoughts, Sydney recognized the look from his lessons, the introspective look that told him Hardin was turning over his thoughts, trying to make sense of them. As Sydney had told Duncan, at a time like this, it was hard to tell what made sense, if anything at all.  All of them had a great deal of thinking and questioning to do, and Sydney's task was to be their guide as they did so.</p>
<p>But first, he knew he must find a starting point both somber and hopeful. With Hardin and Duncan both lost in their own dark thoughts, Sydney moved on again, pacing absently while he waited and considered his own.</p>
<p>By the time those wounded had been attended, and both healed and healer had joined the subdued crowd, Sydney had found words that would be appropriate, if perhaps not adequate. Some who had just arrived had not yet heard why they had been called together, so that was where he began. "The battle belongs to us, brethren," he told them, raising his voice so that all could hear, "but no victory is without its losses. ...We've lost a good man and a fine warrior in our friend Padric today."</p>
<p>He paused until the gasps and murmurs had ceased, giving them all a moment to digest the news. "He did not die in shame or in fear," Sydney continued, "but with honor and courage - defending us, his sworn friends and family from their oppressors. A senseless death, yes, but one which praises him nonetheless. Doubtless the gods have rewarded him greatly for his faithfulness." He folded his hands before him, bowing his head, and respectfully recited the ceremonial words in Kildean. "Ext liabrin taan gyltaris miakha." Those among the brethren who knew the response murmured it together.</p>
<p>Sydney kept his eyes closed for a moment longer, drinking in the sense of them. The mood among his followers was almost exactly the opposite of their mood during such rites as the spring rituals, but at both such times, they were unified. They were a family, all in harmony with one another, feeling the same joy, the same grief. Although Sydney could have done without ever leading another memorial, he still felt it was an honor and a privilege to do so, to be trusted to preside over such important moments, to tend to such precious and beloved souls.</p>
<p>But he was entrusted with their safety as well, and so he did not linger long before lifting his head. "We must press onward," he told them. "I fear the cardinal's men have planned something more for us than this skirmish. Those who are up to the task, clear the road to the east. The rest of you... simply relax, and strengthen your hearts. This is not the last of our troubles by far."</p>
<p>Some were willing and able, though many were still absorbing the shock of having lost a brother. Sydney moved to the side of the road, watching from a short distance away as those who had stepped forward to lead the effort began to drag the bodies of the knights aside so that the cart could pass. But for the sadness that permeated the air about him, he felt... numb.</p>
<p>Before the road had been cleared, he also felt anger - directed at him by Hardin, and Sydney turned to face him as he approached. "What the hell was that all about?" Hardin demanded. "Our friend just died, Sydney - Padric <em>died!</em> He turned to dust! And you calmly speak a few vague words of spiritual nonsense and bid us to set off on our way again?"</p>
<p>Sydney had had a good idea what to expect from Duncan. From Hardin, who had not been with them for so long, he hadn't been sure, but anger directed at <em>him</em> would not have been his first guess. But then, Sydney supposed he had provided a convenient target for Hardin's anger, in the absence of anyone else to be angry with.</p>
<p>And this could turn unpleasant quickly; a few of the brethren were close by and now regarding the two of them with mild alarm. Without thinking much upon it, Sydney took hold of Hardin's wrist, leading him off the road and into the forest, with a nod over his shoulder to those who were looking on to let them know he had it under control. ...Possibly.</p>
<p>"Do you even care that one of your devoted followers died, Sydney?" Hardin went on, stalking after Sydney almost as much as allowing himself to be led. "Or is that below you, seeing as you have no reason to fear death yourself?"</p>
<p>"Be calm, Hardin." In spite of himself, Sydney found that Hardin's accusations were making <em>him</em> quite irritable - as if <em>he</em> was not also having to deal with the loss. "You have lost a comrade in arms before, have you not?" he asked, dropping his hold on the man's wrist and simply letting him follow. "Do you always behave as such a child, when a man gives his life in a battle he chooses to fight, knowing that his death is a possibility? Such is the way of a warrior."</p>
<p>"I'm well aware of that, but this is different!" Hardin insisted.</p>
<p>Sydney stopped short, and turned to him. "How?"</p>
<p>"He..."</p>
<p>Hardin couldn't seem to find the words, and so Sydney provided them. "Because he was your friend? And mine as well?"</p>
<p>"Yes!" exclaimed Hardin. "The man gave up everything to follow you, and died doing so - and you don't appear to be the slightest bit upset about it. It's as if once he vanished, he had never existed!"</p>
<p>...Hardin did not have the knowledge that he had, Sydney reminded himself. Neither did he see Sydney as any sort of holy figure, with the responsibility to be strong and serene for the sake of his followers. With that in mind, Hardin's outburst seemed more understandable, and Sydney sobered quickly. "What do you suppose upset me so badly this morning?" he asked quietly. "I have already grieved for Padric."</p>
<p>There was a shocked pause, as Hardin realized the implication, but then his anger burst forth again. "Gods - that makes it even worse! Are you saying you knew he would die in this battle?"</p>
<p>"Yes." Sydney kept his response soft and succinct.</p>
<p>"Why then did we engage the enemy at all, if you knew he would die? Why did you not keep him out of the battle? Could you not have at least warned him?"</p>
<p>"I did warn him."</p>
<p>Hardin opened his mouth to reply and then closed it abruptly. Sydney waited, having foiled whatever rebuttal Hardin had prepared for an excuse Sydney had not given. But instead of remaining defensive, Hardin quieted as well. "He knew..."</p>
<p>Apparently something had passed between them that supported Sydney's words. "He did," Sydney confirmed.</p>
<p>"Then... why...?"</p>
<p>"I was also shown what would happen if he did not fight," Sydney answered with a soft sigh. "If he was not to fight this battle, Duncan would have been partnered with someone less familiar, who could not protect him adequately. Though Padric would have lived, Duncan would have died in his stead." </p>
<p>Sydney had not told Duncan the exact details, and likely he would not - Duncan already blamed himself. But Hardin required more than Duncan, more than any of the brethren, for they were content with Sydney's word, for he was the mouth of the gods.  Not content to assume there was order in unfathomable mysteries, Hardin required explanation. And explanations... were neither profound nor perfect in their ability to provide comfort.</p>
<p>Sydney turned away, idly toying with the leaves on a low-hanging branch. "I let Padric know that the choice was his to make," he continued. "If he chose to remain in the midst of the brethren instead of rushing to the forefront, it would not be his fault that Duncan died, but the fault of our attackers. Even so, he chose to fight, to defend Duncan."</p>
<p>"That's just not right," Hardin muttered. "There had to be something that could have been done to change it. You could have held us back in Leá Monde another day or two, even a week on the supplies we had remaining. We didn't have to go out to fight today-"</p>
<p>His voice was rising with his anger again, and Sydney cut it off before either could go too far with a bitter laugh. "Do you think I did not consider it? You know nothing of prophecy, Hardin; the visions do not work in such a manner. Suppose I had followed my initial instincts and decided to wait a few days, until the danger was past," he proposed. "Perhaps three days from now would have been the day which the gods showed me, rather than today. Even had we been able to tarry in the dark city for another year, Padric would have died the day we left Leá Monde - that is what was given to me to know. The very day I met him," he told Hardin, his voice growing tight with his frustration, "I knew that someday he would die in my service, though I did not know how until this very morning." His fist clenched, tearing the leaves he had been fidgeting with. "It was written long ago, and I am no god - I cannot change the course of a man's fate!"</p>
<p>Why did Hardin require him to explain? He had thought it all over, from every angle, so many times, yet nothing changed. Sydney had no reason or desire to go over it again, knowing that he could do nothing but what was asked of him.</p>
<p>And when Hardin spoke again, his voice was still furious. "It's just not right! What good are the gods, if they will place even their followers into a hopeless situation, with no hope of deliverance? Why should we honor them at all?"</p>
<p>Sydney had asked himself the same thing many times, though perhaps in a less irreverent way; Hardin was in a sense echoing his own thoughts. ...And then he realized - Hardin <em>was</em>, in a sense, echoing his own thoughts.</p>
<p>When Sydney turned back to Hardin, it was with a difficult blend of emotions - concern, sympathy, sweet kinship. "Ah, Hardin..." he said gently. "I told you only hours ago that you would believe, but I did not know that you would come into this reawakening so indignant, crying as a babe pulled from the warm safety of his mother's womb."</p>
<p>Again Hardin stopped just short of an angry reply, stunned into silence. He had not considered the words he had spoken, that they implied belief, if not respect. When he spoke again, he did not deny it. "Answer my questions, Sydney. If the gods will allow such things as happened today to occur, why would anyone want to serve them? What good does it do?"</p>
<p>That was, perhaps, something Sydney was more used to answering. "Faith and respect for the gods is not a miraculous solution to all mankind's problems," he replied. "The only sure path by which a man can be freed of his troubles is death. It is not the gods that cause him pain, but the iniquitous souls of men. As long as man exists, there will be hardship."</p>
<p>"But if the gods are so powerful and worthy, why do they not stop this? Why do they allow injustices to continue - to let men slaughter and prey on the poor and the innocent - even in their names?"</p>
<p>Again, a question Sydney could answer. "And revoke one of their most precious and valuable gifts to man?"</p>
<p>"What the hell are you babbling about now?"</p>
<p>"Free will, Hardin. The gods gifted mankind with free will; and man, being an impure beast, often uses it in ways that harm others. Is that the gods' fault?"</p>
<p>"Yes!" Hardin exclaimed. "If they have the power to protect those who follow them, as Padric did, they should do so!"</p>
<p>Sydney shook his head, at something of a loss. Hardin was not the first to ask him these things, not by far, but for that same reason, Sydney knew that no answer he gave would be adequate. Certainly none he could give in a brief, concise discussion before they set out again. "Hardin, you are upset. Talking of theology or philosophy when one is overwrought very rarely leads to a meaningful epiphany. Besides," he noted, turning back towards the road, "the brethren are waiting for us. Quiet your heart, and we shall talk again later if you wish."</p>
<p>Hardin did not follow. "Damn you, Sydney! Is that all there is? Or are you merely running away because you can't answer me? If there is a reason for this," he demanded, "tell me!"</p>
<p>...He wasn't so far off. Pausing, Sydney looked back, tired and troubled. "Your questions have been asked since the dawn of mankind," he acknowledged, "and perhaps there is no answer that a mortal man can comprehend. Or perhaps the answer is simply impossible to fathom after today's tragedy." </p>
<p>It was more honest a response than he might have spoken among the brethren, who would take his doubts upon themselves. Hardin's doubts and his resentment were already far more severe than his own, so voicing them would do no harm. In truth, it was a bittersweet kind of relief for Sydney to be able to do so.</p>
<p>Sydney lifted a hand towards Hardin, beckoning to him. "Come, Hardin," he said quietly. "As much as has already taken place, the day is still young, and we have far to travel. I would not leave you behind."</p>
<p>Thoughts of their own destinies, or what the gods may have prepared for Hardin, were far from Sydney's mind at the moment. It was on his own behalf that he was tremendously grateful when, after several long seconds of Hardin remaining still, fixing him with a glare that was both angry and unspeakably wounded - finally, grudgingly, Hardin began to follow.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Müllenkamp's travels were much quieter than they had been when they set out that morning, after the tragedy that had interrupted them. There was no laughter, and what little conversation remained was hushed. Sydney walked amidst a haze of sadness and distress that hung over the entire group; his work, for the rest of this day, would be to find those among them who needed more attention and offer it. A gentle touch, words of reassurance, a calm presence. Though there was none among them who was not disheartened to some degree by the loss of one of their brethren, Sydney was not always needed, for within their fellowship, they also took care of one another. Each of them had friends close at hand, those with whom they could speak their mind and puzzle through their emotions.</p><p>It was therefore those who had been closest to Padric that kept drawing Sydney's attention. Kermiak had lost himself in pragmatism, for although there was no formal chain of command among them, he had been something akin to Padric's second. Now he was the most experienced of Müllenkamp's swordsmen, and Padric had always taken certain chores and duties upon himself in that role. Kermiak spoke occasionally to Sydney, asking if he agreed that a particular individual might be suited to a certain task, and as far as Sydney could tell, Kermiak's judgments were excellent. They would approach each as there was need, but for now there was no need to assign responsibilities.</p><p>Duncan remained in his dark mood, with the outward appearance of sullenness, but there was no true resentment left. Within his heart was merely grief, helplessness, so deep that they could not be talked through or reasoned with any more than had already been done. There was naught to be done for it but wait, Sydney thought - wait, and make certain that Duncan knew he was not alone.</p><p>And he did not have to offer Duncan that reminder at the moment, for Hardin walked at his side in silence. Offering the comfort of his friendship, even as his own rage and uncertainty roiled within, threatening to spill over.</p><p>Sydney found himself envying Duncan, in a way. Hardin had gotten under his skin somehow, almost from the start, and frustrating as his outward defensive mannerisms could be, Sydney knew his heart, and that it was good. This balancing act that he had adopted out of necessity, to ensure Hardin was equipped and informed if he was to become something special among them, while remaining aloof so that he might not feel pressured to remain... It was difficult to keep Hardin at arm's length when the man refused to stay there, and upon approaching revealed himself to be such a fascinating package of contradictions - defiant and devoted, bitter and gentle. Hardin's questioning, his willingness to challenge Sydney on <em>everything</em>, could be exasperating in the moment, but their conversations lingered in Sydney's mind long after they had ended.</p><p>Such was the case with their confrontation just after the battle. Though Sydney knew he had done nothing wrong, and he had given Hardin the best answers he had, it had not been enough. For Sydney, the grey areas and blank spaces could be supplemented by his faith, for he had seen the workings of the gods from his youth. He had borne witness to the reclamation of tragedies, to justice being done. He had, at times, the personal counsel of the Lady to reassure him when he faltered. But Hardin had only betrayal, loss, solitude. Of course it was not enough.</p><p>At least he was not alone with this loss. Duncan's companionship at the moment was somber, but he was present at Hardin's side, sharing the same grief. The last time Sydney had glanced back to the two of them, Kirrienne and Branla walked with them as well, conversing with Hardin. Sydney might have joined them, knowing that Duncan was in particular need of kinship, and wishing for the earnestness of Hardin's - but after what they had spoken of earlier? Sydney suspected that his own presence would not be welcome, that his own necessary show of calm would arouse Hardin's anger once more, and disrupt the peaceful fellowship between them. Sydney stifled a faint sigh of either annoyance or exhaustion, possibly both, and continued as he had been, walking alongside the horses at the front of the cart, crossing to the other side to look over the others who walked there, to see if anyone had need of him.</p><p>And then, the next time he looked back to where Hardin had been walking among his friends, Hardin was not there.</p><p>The momentary stab of anxiety in his heart was hardly necessary, Sydney told himself in annoyance. If anything had happened to Hardin, those who had been walking with him would have noticed. If he had chosen to leave them abruptly, someone would have come to tell Sydney of his decision, if not he himself. </p><p>But when Sydney went to look at those walking on the far side of the cart, Hardin was not among them either. Near the back of their number, where Hardin had been walking with Duncan, Sydney spotted Kirrienne glancing over her shoulder. Focusing on her rhythm, cutting through the general sadness that was so prevalent among all of them, Sydney found that she felt somewhat worried as well.</p><p>"Kirrienne," he addressed her quietly, falling back to walk at her side. He could have read it in her heart had he tried, but for matters lacking urgency, it was more polite to ask. "Where has Hardin gone?"</p><p>"He said he felt ill," Kirrienne replied, now more openly concerned as she glanced back at the road behind them again. "He seemed to want his privacy, and said that he'd be back in a moment. But he's not yet returned... I wonder if someone should have gone with him anyhow."</p><p>Sydney shook his head, taking one of her hands between his comfortingly. "It was kinder to respect his wishes," he assured her. "I will go and see to him."</p><p>"Something wrong, Sydney?" Kermiak inquired, slowing to meet Sydney as he quickened his step to catch up.</p><p>"I don't believe so, merely something I should investigate," Sydney replied, and rushed his steps further to address Domenic as well, where he was driving the horses. "Go ahead and continue on the way; I must go back for a moment. If I have not returned within an hour, stop to rest and have a bit of food, that all may have strength for the rest of today's travel. Surely I will have caught up with you by the time you set out again." Ideally with Hardin in tow.</p><p>That small stab of anxiety Sydney had felt had smoothed out and settled into a vague sense of concern as he set out down the road the way they had come. He would sense Hardin's presence when he was close enough, but in the meantime, he would worry. For instance, if Hardin <em>was</em> ill, and more so than he thought. Or if Hardin had only said so to get away without resistance, and had no intention of rejoining them... in which case Sydney should probably be leaving him to himself. ...Unless Hardin's bitterness and disillusionment with the world and the gods was so overwhelming that he thought to leave all of it behind. Sydney did not think he had been <em>that</em> distraught when they had spoken earlier, but it could have been that his emotions had resolved into something darker with the time to think upon them.</p><p>But more likely, Sydney supposed, he was simply unwell, whether physically or otherwise, and needed more time than he had anticipated to make his way back. Surely he would find out soon. He hoped that his appearing did not make matters worse - but, he thought with resignation, if it helped Hardin in any way to shout at him some more, Sydney could endure it. After all, he had shouted at Hardin and worse that morning, when he had been similarly distraught, and Hardin had remained patient and gentle. ...He very much hoped that he had no reason to worry about Hardin.</p><p>Sydney could move more quickly on his own than the entire group, so it did not take long before he had gone back far enough that he could sense Hardin's presence, somewhere off in the woods north of the road ahead. It would have been quite useful to have Hardin's talent at his command at the moment, for all Sydney could do was hold onto that glimmer of Hardin's soul and make his way towards it. It became stronger as he drew nearer, and clearer as well that Hardin was in the depths of despair. Despite the thick overgrowth of the forest once he had left the road, Sydney moved faster.</p><p>He knew he must be close when, despite not seeing or hearing Hardin himself, he could hear Hardin's heart crying out in anguish, alone and thus absent of the need to contain his thoughts. </p><p>
  <i>Why am I still here, when he is not? My brother, all I had... I have never known anything but to care for him - there is nothing else I can do, nowhere I can go. Why am I still alive? I could have found a quick, easy death at the hands of the king's men, or allowed myself to rot in prison... There is nothing left for me, nothing left in me, why do I still live?</i>
</p><p>...Of course - his grief was not only for Padric. When Hardin spoke of his brother, he did not speak of his brother's death, but of being at his side caring for him. They had been separated not by the grave, but by Hardin's imprisonment; when he escaped, given the state he'd been in when Müllenkamp happened upon him, he'd almost certainly been been too exhausted and troubled and tense to grieve. So eagerly he had given in to the Quicksilver's illusion... All this time, Sydney realized, Hardin had known that Philip had died - but he had been unable to fully comprehend what it <em>meant</em>.  It was almost as if his brother had only just now passed...</p><p>Despite the worrying nature of his thoughts, Hardin remained still, and he had to be nearby. Sydney slowed, moving more cautiously. As the thicker brush he was passing through gave way to mere overgrown weeds, he spotted Hardin slumped against the foot of a large tree only a few paces away, a hand covering his face, shoulders shaking. </p><p>And Sydney realized he didn't know what to say or do. All his wisdom, incomplete as it was, had not been enough for Hardin earlier, and he doubted very much it would be of more help in the face of even deeper misery, fully-grown and conscious now instead of the heart's veiled murmurings. All Sydney knew was that he <em>longed</em> to ease Hardin's suffering - possibly more than was reasonable.</p><p>He did not have time to examine that, however, or try to think of how, for as he took a step closer, Hardin's head lifted to look up at him, weary and streaked with tears. "What is it?" he asked, in a tone that did not quite manage to be accusatory for its exhaustion. "Am I slowing you down? Then go on - leave me behind."</p><p>Hardin had to know better. Although Sydney was not sure what he was to do, it would certainly not be that. Instead, he sat down at Hardin's side. It had helped him to have Hardin with him that morning, just sitting peacefully together. Perhaps it would help Hardin now if he remained there, not speaking, not staring at him, for it was clear that Hardin was ashamed to be seen in such a state just as he had been. Instead, Sydney simply gazed up into the treetops. Beside him, he felt Hardin settle back to do the same. It was, perhaps, a start.</p><p>It occurred to Sydney, after a few moments had passed in peaceful but awkward silence, that there was another thing Hardin had done for him that morning that he could also do. He still carried his satchel, and Hardin looked over, absent of true interest, at the sound of Sydney's metal claws clicking against the wine bottle he'd  brought forth. The two cups followed suit. "I did not drink much after you left this morning," Sydney said, setting the cups between them and beginning to pour. "I suspected that someone might need it."</p><p>The first cup he offered to Hardin, who haltingly took it. He had not so much sipped at it by the time Sydney had poured some for himself and taken a long drink. Hardin was simply staring down into the dark wine, lost in darker thoughts, and Sydney nudged him lightly to get his attention, gesturing to the cup in his hand. "Go on, Hardin - drink," Sydney suggested. "The gods know you could stand to have a bit less self-control, and if it eases your mind, so much the better."</p><p>Hardin shook his head, returning his disinterested gaze to the wine instead, and his voice was half hoarse when he spoke. "Why are you here, Sydney?"</p><p>"What was it you said to me this morning...?" Sydney pondered, pouring himself another cup of wine. "'Everyone needs a friend now and then'?" He swallowed much of it down before continuing. "And perhaps a drink or two as well."</p><p>"It didn't seem to do you much good," Hardin muttered.</p><p>"It did more good than you might think." Far more than his actions had shown. "I do not speak only of the wine, of course. You are a good man, Hardin, and that is why I am with you now. You were kind to me when I needed a friend."</p><p>"You treat your friends oddly."</p><p>There was no more anger or accusation in his voice, just weariness, but Sydney bowed his head in acknowledgement of the rebuke as Hardin finally decided to drink as well, swallowing hard and blinking back the tears that still gathered in his eyes. "You did nothing wrong, Hardin," Sydney told him. "To a normal man, your actions would have been most welcome, I imagine, but..." </p><p>He wasn't sure how to explain it, nor if he truly wanted to - the terrifying fits that came upon him, leaving him unable to breathe, or bear even the slightest, kindest touch. Much like his tears by night, none had seen him in such a state until Hardin had stumbled into his secrets, since Sydney had learned he must isolate himself, hide this weakness until he managed to regain control. Hardin had an uncanny way, he thought, of seeing a great many things he tried to keep hidden.</p><p>"...I have a..." he began, but the words didn't seem to come. Since he had hidden it, he hadn't had to talk about it. "...Well..." he tried again, and again could not think how to define what exactly it was that happened to him. Hardin had lifted his head again, regarding him with vague curiosity now, and Sydney sighed and gave up. "Let us say that there are some things about me that are not entirely normal."</p><p>Hardin's gaze levelled on Sydney, his eyes narrowing quizzically. Before Sydney could try to clarify, Hardin burst out laughing.</p><p>The sound, in the midst of the quiet forest, startled Sydney for a moment, but then he found himself annoyed. How dare Hardin <em>laugh</em> at his... rather inadequate choice of phrasing, he had to admit. The glare he'd fixed on Hardin faded away into a faint, wry smile of his own as Hardin just continued to nearly roar with laughter beside him. "I suppose that was a bit of an understatement, wasn't it?" </p><p>Hardin didn't reply, still laughing helplessly, his shoulders shaking, tears in his eyes - and then Sydney was on his knees, rushing to take the cup from his hands, for with the relinquishing of control, the grief and misery Hardin had been holding back rushed forth like a flood. His eyes overflowed, his entire body trembled.</p><p>"Oh, Hardin..." Sydney murmured, catching Hardin in his arms more out of instinct than intentional thought, holding him close as he cried bitter, wracking sobs. His wisdom had been useless for the depths of Hardin's suffering; he could offer nothing more than to kneel there and hold him, steady him, as the grief he'd held in for so long worked its way out. Unleashed and uncontrolled, Hardin's heart held nothing for the Dark to offer Sydney - all he had was the pain that escaped in short, sharp, violent breaths against Sydney's shoulder.</p><p>Sydney held Hardin close, stroking his back carefully in what he hoped was a soothing manner, as Hardin wore himself out and his breaths began to slow. "So long have you been alone with this," he murmured. "So long have you struggled, even while your brother was still with you... no one that you might confide in, no one to hear your doubts and fears, for you must be strong, for him... I understand," he whispered. "I understand..." </p><p>Because it was the same for him... and much like Hardin, he had not realized that it was unusual - until Hardin had come to them, and refused to accept him as anything other than a man. Not invincible, not infallible, only an ordinary man in spite of his power. Sydney himself had nearly forgotten, for he did not know any other way to live his life but to be set apart.</p><p>This was no epiphany; Sydney had thought much the same about the implications of the unique and erratic nature of his interactions with Hardin many a time. The same things that kept Hardin so angry and defensive, as well as his uncertainty about what the gods had in store for Hardin, had kept Sydney from thinking too deeply about them and the conclusions that might be drawn, averting his eyes rather than fighting as Hardin did. But time after time after time, Hardin had known just what he needed and did not want... Both of them were men, flesh and blood, two of a kind after a fashion, holding themselves to too high a standard, standards impossible for a mortal soul to bear in silence, year after year. </p><p>Sydney's control was now shaken as well, but <em>still</em> he refused to let it be shown to falter. "Ah, Hardin... always the comforter, always the caregiver... no one has ever comforted or cared for you since your childhood, have they?" he murmured, soft and gentle, as the tension drained from Hardin's body in his embrace. "You give and give of all the good in yourself, keeping every unwelcome and unpleasant thought tucked away until it is all you have left... Did you not know that it is no shame to release those things? Anything a man keeps to himself for too long will eventually spoil and sour, turning to poison within..."</p><p>It was hypocritical of him, and he knew it. He was not <em>only</em> speaking of the man who now leaned his head upon his shoulder, reeling from the weight of the burdens he had taken upon himself, the burdens that had become his entire being. "For a man who gives himself as you do, you have the right to share them, and to ask for what you may need to take..." Sydney murmured, almost absently. "Every man needs to take now and then - it is not a sign of weakness. It is all right, Hardin - all will be well. All will be well, my friend..."</p><p>Hardin's breath was warm and shaky against his throat as he sighed faintly, the sobs having subsided, and Sydney closed his eyes tight, even as his hand came to rest gently on the back of Hardin's neck. "Every man has needs," he whispered, "and desires, and..." ...It was inevitable, he realized. "Hardin, please forgive me..."</p><p>Having calmed himself again somewhat, Hardin lifted his head from Sydney's shoulder to ask, which made it even more impossible for Sydney to resist leaning in, meeting Hardin's mouth with his own. Unconsciously he must have been expecting that Hardin would push him away, perhaps strike him again, for it was nothing short of amazing to him when Hardin immediately returned his kiss, every bit as eager, or possibly more so.</p><p>As inescapable as the desire to kiss Hardin had been, Sydney was aware that Hardin was hurt, vulnerable. He might have come a long way towards acceptance of his desire, but this was new, possibly still frightening. Not at the moment - he was too lost within his emotions to think clearly - but Sydney tried to be gentle, not ask too much. It was difficult to rein himself in when Hardin's kiss was so hungry, so demanding, unlike the worshipful kisses from his followers. Sydney <em>wanted</em> to satisfy it; his lips parted at the press of Hardin's tongue, welcoming. Hardin's arm was around his waist, drawing him closer, and the other hand was in his hair, and Sydney felt almost dizzy. He had had plenty of lovers, but none had kissed him like Hardin was kissing him now. It would have been so easy to let go of his concerns...</p><p>But then Hardin's hands were between them, fumbling for the fastenings of Sydney's cloak, and Sydney had to draw back to ask. "Hardin...?" he said cautiously, sitting back on his heels.</p><p>"This emptiness... I can't bear it, Sydney." His voice sounded hollow and hoarse, as urgent as the hands that loosed Sydney's cloak and tossed it aside before starting on his own jacket. "There is nothing left of the man I once was..."</p><p>Although Sydney didn't <em>object</em> to where Hardin's hands went next, reaching for the lacing of his pants, it was not what he had been expecting or intending when he had dared to take his chances on a kiss. "This is not like you in the least," he pointed out, before Hardin's fumbling hands - or was it intentional? - slipped for a moment a bit too low, making him gasp. </p><p>"I know it is unlike me - and I don't care anymore, Sydney. This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Hardin's voice was bitter and defiant, but trembled slightly, and there were tears in his eyes. "As for me, I need to be filled again. I need to feel... something, anything... it doesn't matter..."</p><p>As Sydney had thought, this was not what Hardin wanted, nor what he needed. He was desperate and distraught. And that was definitely not what <em>he</em> wanted. Carefully, he rested his own hands atop Hardin's, not stopping him precisely, but prepared to. "The man you once were still exists," he told Hardin. "He has just retreated for a time, to recover what he has lost. When you come back to yourself, you would no doubt regret this." </p><p>Hardin ignored his hands, continuing to fumble with the knots at Sydney's hip. "There is no way to recover what I have lost. Can you bring the dead back to life, prophet? Damn it! How can you tie so tight a knot with those claws of yours?"</p><p>"Hardin..." Though it pained him, Hardin's distress pained him more. Sydney tightened his hands on Hardin's, tugging them away from his waist, and looked him in the eye. There was so much pain there, so much despair. "This is not you," he said gently. "The man who desires me now is a stranger, and I would not make love to a stranger. Even if he has a very exciting kiss," he conceded with a small smile, before growing serious once more. "But all this..." Letting go of Hardin's hands, he gestured at the clothing strewn about the ground, the cup that lay on its side where it had been knocked over. "These are not the actions of the man of whom I've grown so fond in the past weeks."</p><p>Sydney's words this time did seem to bring Hardin to his senses, as he looked around at the chaotic scene he'd created. He sagged back against the tree once more, his heart finally coherent enough to speak in words again. <i>I've been a fool. Worse than a fool. This kind of behavior... Shameful, inexcusable.</i> "Sydney..." he began tiredly.</p><p>"I know." No explanation was needed, nor an apology; Sydney was simply relieved. A bit disappointed and mildly uncomfortable as well, but mostly relieved. Hardin's behavior had been tempting almost as much as it was disquieting. "You will see," he assured Hardin. "Your life may have been torn apart, but your soul remains as strong as ever, and this can do nothing but make it stronger yet. But for now..." he suggested, moving to sit beside Hardin again, resting an arm lightly around his shoulders. "Rest easy, Hardin. Rest easy, and know that all will be well in time."</p><p>Hardin did not protest the touch as too familiar now, but instead rested his head upon Sydney's shoulder wearily. He said nothing aloud, but Sydney heard his words anyhow. <i>I don't believe him... but he is comforting even so. Everything is wrong. Everything... except this.</i></p><p>Hardin's thoughts were both pleasing and worrying to Sydney. Still so despairing, but he was at least managing to be of some help. And then, too, they begged the question - what was "this"? Only a short time ago, he had acknowledged that Hardin was something unique to him, something that none other had been, but the idea of putting a name to it was unsettling...</p><p>For now, whatever it might or might not be, "this" was helping Hardin to heal. With that in mind, Sydney reached his free hand over to take Hardin's, resting them upon his knee. Hardin barely moved to react, but neither did he pull away. <i>They don't even seem so strange anymore. Perhaps because I have lost everything normal in my life, this is why I can accept it. Such an unusual kinship with such an unusual man...</i> </p><p>Sydney leaned his head lightly against Hardin's. Perhaps he was less unusual than he had thought. He was exhausted as well, both physically and emotionally, and he let himself close his eyes, resting with Hardin almost in his arms. Hardin's heart had spoken truly - it <em>did</em> feel right - and for now, he didn't want to worry about what else that might mean.</p><p>Sydney was still the high priest of Müllenkamp, however. Now that Hardin's earlier rage had revealed itself for what it was, and been brought forth, perhaps he could offer something that would be useful, something that would speak to Hardin's actual grief. </p><p>"I know you are angry with the gods," Sydney said quietly, after a great deal of thought; he was reluctant to break their silence at all. "But take comfort in this - if the gods I speak of exist, then an afterlife does as well. The gods take the innocent to themselves with open arms; Philip's suffering has ended, and he has entered into paradise. And as for Padric... those who serve the gods and the Dark have their options. His soul may live on as one of the wandering spirits, protecting the living from those menaces that are unseen to mortal eyes; or perhaps he will be reborn in time. Or it may be that he too is in paradise - perhaps even watching over Philip until you are to be reunited. The death of the body is but the start of many new paths, it is not such a terrible thing."</p><p>"Why then should I not take my own life today?"</p><p>"Because life can be a beautiful thing," Sydney replied, the answer coming easily. "The most harsh discord that man causes can be resolved into resounding, full harmonies in the hands of one who makes such an effort - just as a bard who diligently studies his instrument. And just as no two instruments are alike, so are the lives of man. Even if you were to be reborn, thinking to get a fresh start, what you have learned thus far would be of no use."</p><p>Hardin made a vague, thoughtful sound, but did not otherwise reply aloud. <i>Philip in paradise... Padric's gentle soul living on, as a guardian or in a new body... I... want to be able to believe it.</i></p><p>Sydney's answer had been earnest but largely impersonal, his conclusions from theological and philosophical dilemmas that arose frequently. But this was <em>Hardin</em>, still despairing enough to ask, and he couldn't help but append a more personal response. "And besides," he added, "would you have me mourn another today, as if it were not enough that I and the brethren have lost one companion?"</p><p>"No, of course not." Hardin's response was immediate, and Sydney squeezed his hand gently in gratitude. Everything was not resolved yet, it would take time. Being given more time was all he could ask.</p><p>More time was also what he wanted in the moment. Eventually, the two of them would have to stand and return to the road, and catch up with the brethren. It may have been self-defeating, but the thought of it made Sydney even less willing to suggest it. If it were up to him, he mused in comfortable weariness, he and Hardin could stay as they were for the rest of the day. If only the others would not worry about them, and lose valuable time waiting, or doubling back...</p><p>He was thinking about it, trying to convince himself that they really <em>must</em> move on - it was likely already past the time when he had told Kermiak to expect his return - when Hardin stirred at his side. He had been silent and still so long, Sydney would have thought he had fallen asleep, if not for the quiet murmurs of his heart, now more guarded since he had regained his self-control. But Hardin had not been sleeping, he had been deliberating. "Sydney... Teach me about your gods."</p><p>Sydney sat up straighter, turning to look an earnest Hardin in the eye. His heart seemed to want to go in every direction at once. Of course he was pleased anytime he could bring another soul to know the gods who loved them. He was relieved that Hardin seemed to have hope after all, and more personally, that this meant he would likely stay with them. But he also wondered, as one well-acquainted with matters of fate - what was Hardin agreeing to in the long term? How much responsibility did <em>he</em> have in deciding Hardin's destiny?</p><p>...But it didn't matter. Hardin had asked, of his own will, and Sydney's responsibility before the gods <em>and</em> his personal preference was to do as Hardin was asking of him, whatever might come of it. <i>...Most Holy Ones,</i> he prayed in his heart, <i>may I be worthy of this. Use me as You will... and may he find You in me.</i></p><p>And with that, he found himself smiling faintly, for the gods had already answered. He knew how he was to introduce Hardin to them. "If that is what you wish," he told Hardin softly, shifting to kneel before him as he had earlier, when Hardin was overwhelmed by his grief. "And your first lesson is this."</p><p>It was not so different than before when he leaned forward to take Hardin into his embrace - but for the presence of the gods within him, reaching out to the spirit within Hardin, enfolding him in not only Sydney's arms but wrapping him in the purest love, the love they held for the whole of their creation and for John Hardin himself, specifically John Hardin, the only John Hardin there was or would ever be. The part of Sydney that was still Sydney felt Hardin's breath catch in his throat, and Sydney's smile deepened, knowing what Hardin felt, for he had felt the same many times. "If you learn nothing else of the gods, friend Hardin," he murmured, "remember this." Tears welled up in his own eyes, for Hardin wept in his arms once more, and not from grief.</p><p>The gods must have intervened on their behalf elsewhere as well, for they had already been gone for some time, and Sydney remained there kneeling with Hardin for longer still, until his nearly starved soul was sated. It was growing dark by the time the two of them caught up with the brethren again, yet none had been overly concerned about the lengthy absence, nor did they question what had kept them so long.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As Sydney had told Hardin in that moment of weakness - had it really been only a few days past? - pain was something he was well-acquainted with. Discomfort as well, and worry about things that he could not entirely comprehend, much less control. However, he was beginning to believe that he might just be out of his depth, or on his way.</p><p>The night after the fateful encounter with the Crimson Blades, Sydney slept alone by necessity. Everyone's emotions were still raw. Someone might have need of him, and seek him out, and it would be uncomfortable to be caught in some intimate act. Which was unfortunate, because after the near-encounter with Hardin that afternoon, Sydney was a bit... frustrated. Likely the only reason he slept at all was because he was so exhausted as well.</p><p>The next day, he walked alongside Hardin when he was not needed elsewhere, telling him stories of the history of Müllenkamp, both the Lady and the sect which had taken her name. Hardin was still not entirely himself, though likely only Sydney or the few other heartseers among their number would have noticed, for he retained most of his self-control, stifling the tears that came to his eyes if someone made mention of Padric or a young child who was not with them, sometimes barely managing to bite back sharp words before any but Sydney heard his irritability at someone's unknowing interruption of his thoughts. Sydney tried to keep some distance between the two of them and the rest of the brethren, to minimize the chance of distraction or upset, so for much of the day's travel, he and Hardin were effectively alone. Sydney spoke, and Hardin listened.</p><p>Sometimes, as he spoke, Sydney was also listening to Hardin, for Hardin's heart had much to say about other matters besides gods and grief, and his shielding was erratic with his inability to focus. Hardin was confused and conflicted still; having given in to his attraction to Sydney, he was willing to acknowledge it, somewhat uncertain what he thought about not having been allowed to act on it, but wary of letting himself be carried away as he had before. Thus he said nothing.</p><p>That was just as well, Sydney supposed, if they were to be teacher and pupil once again for the time being. Hardin's emotions were still unstable, and it was best not to take any sort of action that might cause him to become further conflicted. ...There were plenty of reasons not to address what had passed between them beneath that tree, and many of them had nothing to do with Sydney's own fears about what he had felt for Hardin as he held him, or what it was - for it had not been lust - that drove him to kiss the man. To <em>need</em> to kiss him.</p><p>His own weakness, he told himself, after a difficult night and day. He had desired comfort, and Hardin had proven willing to provide it in unique ways. Surely it was nothing more - and the next night, he thought to relieve some of his frustrations with Gwynn. Gwynn was a carefree soul, playful and completely lacking in any sort of inhibitions about lovemaking, always an enjoyable and enthusiastic partner. That had not changed, and even in the current circumstances, there were smiles and laughs that passed between them before they found sleep. But afterward, when Sydney awoke from the visions of chaos, rather than staying within the warmth of Gwynn's arms, he slipped away to sit by himself in the darkness of the woods. Somehow merely a warm presence at his side, unseeing and unknowing, was no longer so comforting as it once had been.</p><p>After that, he gave up the idea, and it was perhaps for the better. His dreams were not telling him anything new, but some of the more troubling and confusing scenes were repeating. He still didn't understand the dream about himself and his father, he still did not know what connection there was between Hardin and the man who presumably was to become his successor, or if they might be one and the same. Armored men marching through the village of Fentegel... perhaps it was only that the brethren were on their way to that particular village now, and after the Crimson Blades had crossed their path, it was his own mind conflating the two. Or perhaps the Blades awaited them there. It was puzzling, for he had been given another prophecy regarding Fentegel years ago... He prayed that if the vision he saw now was a vision at all, that it was the truth of the matter, for that would be far better than what he had previously seen of Fentegel.</p><p>Though he said nothing of his dreams, and kept his distance from the others by night, somehow Hardin knew.</p><p>"Why is it that you insist on suffering all alone?"</p><p>The two of them were walking alone behind the others as they usually did when Sydney was instructing him. Sydney had been mid-sentence, speaking of the elemental spirits' role in spellcasting, when Hardin simply interrupted.</p><p>To say this? Sydney regarded him with a hint of surprise, wondering why this, now.</p><p>Hardin met his eyes, stark and serious. "You told me yourself that there is no shame in admitting weakness or need. Is it so difficult for you to say simply 'I am afraid', or 'I hurt'...? If I could do it, surely you could as well," he stated, "for you are stronger than I."</p><p>...What was he supposed to say? What did Hardin hope to accomplish by asking, Sydney thought with sudden exasperation. He knew. Of all people, Hardin knew. </p><p>And thus there was no reason for him to even respond. Sydney ignored it, as well as the heavy sigh from Hardin as he returned to what he had been saying. "Anyhow, though they are not deities, a magic-user must respect the elemental guardians - for from them flow the energies we weave..."</p><p>It did not occur to him until later, when they paused for a moment of rest and a bite to eat, and Sydney recalled the interruption upon seeing Hardin sitting off by himself, his expression dark. Possibly it had been not an accusation, but an invitation.</p><p>An invitation he would not accept, however, because he could not yet understand what he had seen, much less speak of it. Besides, Hardin had plenty of his own troubles to work through. Honestly, Sydney thought - Hardin was only falling back on his previous unhelpful ways of not dealing with his brother's death. He sought someone to care for, and that was not a role Sydney wished to play even if he had thought it would not be detrimental to Hardin's recovery.</p><p>He reconsidered that night, upon waking alone from another of the visions filled with cruel fire and more cruel madness, and this time understanding what he was seeing. He would not have woken Hardin simply to cry before him, but if Hardin had already been there, he thought that his terrifying epiphany would have been more bearable.</p><p>But Hardin was not there, and by the morning, Sydney had collected himself enough to act as if he had seen nothing. If he urged them to move as quickly as was possible, it was not out of concern, but because they had spent a few days longer than usual in Leá Monde before departing and were slightly short on provisions. Surely that was all...</p><p>It was as he had feared, and not long after they made the final turn onto the narrow, curving dirt road that would lead to Fentegel, Sydney was not the only one whose heart was filled with dread. The sun was sinking; it was the time for dinners to be cooked and hearths to be lit in the briskness of a spring evening. Although there was a faint smell of smoke on the wind...</p><p>"Something's wrong," Kermiak told Sydney, who had moved towards the fore of their party as they drew near. "No chimney fires." </p><p>He was not the only one who had noticed. "You're right," Aryn spoke up. "I thought I had misjudged how far we had yet to go." Around them, a few of the others who led the way nodded curiously, others murmured their surprised agreement after having it pointed out. </p><p>How much of his visions had been warning, and how much prophecy? Sydney steeled himself, showing no sign of dismay or anxiety as he nodded his acknowledgement. If it was a trap, it would be safest if he went alone, for the Blades could not kill him; if he were to be taken, then he had faith that the gods would find a way to use it for good. But if it was not a trap, and there were still knights about, being separated from his brethren would leave them vulnerable. He did not sense any sort of malevolent presence close by, at least, so they had time. "Be calm," he advised, "but be prepared. It would seem those who hunt us have arrived first."</p><p>"The Blades?" Kermiak asked.</p><p>"I cannot be sure," Sydney replied. "I sense no one yet, but that may change." Of course they understood that if that were to change, he would say so, and those with swords loosed them, tossing their cloaks over a shoulder to free their swordarms.</p><p>Hardin, though a willing swordsman, was not among them, having fallen back much as when he had been listening to Sydney's lessons. When Sydney spotted him, walking along near the rear of their assemblage, it occurred to him that he had an advantage now that he had never had before when approaching an uncertain situation. Given the mood Hardin had been in - and from his walking alone at the rear, was likely still in - Sydney was reluctant to ask, but it was important. Also, he supposed it might help Hardin to recognize that he still could be of use to someone, and in entirely different ways than for Philip. </p><p>That was good enough reason to approach him, and therefore Sydney did so. Hardin looked up half-heartedly as Sydney fell in step beside him. "If I might ask a favor, Hardin," Sydney began, "I have a task that would be particularly suited to your abilities."</p><p>"...Oh?" His stoic expression did not change, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eye. </p><p>"Some sort of trouble lies ahead," Sydney told him, gesturing down the road to the east. "In Fentegel, which rests beyond these hills... beyond the sight of our eyes."</p><p>Hardin understood what he was saying before Sydney could even finish. "But I have a different kind of Sight."</p><p>Sydney smiled and nodded. "You do. I had thought to send someone to scout ahead, but as I do not know what they might find, I cannot be sure of the danger."</p><p>Hardin nodded in return. "I will go," he agreed. "Where is Fentegel?"</p><p>Sydney gestured. "As I said, just beyond these hills ahead."</p><p>Hardin stepped out to the side a bit further, to get a better look ahead of the cart, and frowned, looking back to Sydney with concern. "Just beyond?"</p><p>He must have noticed the same thing Kermiak had pointed out. Sydney nodded again. "Close enough that we should have seen smoke from their fires at this hour."</p><p>Hardin's frown deepened, and he stopped at the side of the road, staring off into the distance. Sydney followed his lead, standing by as Hardin concentrated. He expected it would not take long, given that Hardin could scrye from one side of Leá Monde to the other before they had left - and only a few seconds later, Hardin drew in a sharp breath, his eyes widening in shock. "By the gods..."</p><p>"...Hardin?"</p><p>"There is nothing left. Nothing," Hardin repeated, aghast. "The entire village has been burned."</p><p>Sydney was glad that Hardin's attention was elsewhere at the moment, for his own calm facade cracked at the confirmation of his fears. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes. "And the people?"</p><p>"I see no one. And I see nowhere they could be hiding themselves," Hardin replied, his expression settling into concern. "Naught but piles of charred wood and rubble... Let me see..."</p><p>That did not necessarily mean all had been killed, Sydney told himself firmly. On the other side of the coin, neither did it confirm that no one remained to threaten them, but it did suggest the chance of imminent danger was less than Sydney had feared. There was little comfort in this, when so much destruction had already happened.</p><p>"...In the streets, bodies," Hardin continued, quieter. "Not many, but some. Not burned, but..." His voice trailed off.</p><p>Sydney reached out to place a hand on Hardin's arm, recognizing the indications. "Enough, Hardin. You've gone too far ahead." He'd only meant for Hardin to scrye from, perhaps, the crest of the hill beyond them. He might have known Hardin would try to investigate more fully.</p><p>Hardin blinked, returning to normal sight, and took hold of Sydney's arm for a moment to steady himself before relinquishing it. "...Killed by swords," he finished, "or perhaps spears. Men and women both." He met Sydney's eyes, troubled. "Eliminating witnesses. Who would have done this?"</p><p>"...I have my suspicions." Sydney fought back his horror and revulsion at what Hardin described, knowing what must have taken place, and looked back up towards the road. The brethren had paused, waiting for them. "Your assistance is most appreciated - I must let the others know what has happened."</p><p>By the time Sydney and Hardin caught up, already it was clear to everyone that something was wrong. Sydney called them together and explained what Hardin had seen - and assured them that it did not appear to be an ambush, but they must be on their guard. They decided to continue onward, for not only did Sydney want to investigate what had happened, but it was too late to get far that night, and at least no one seemed to be within the village... or what had once been a village.</p><p>Fentegel had been a poor community, but its people generous, sharing what they had with those who would help with their labor. Far from any of the larger cities on the continent with the destruction of Leá Monde decades ago, no one cared for the doings of nobility, much less a king whose existence they heard little more than rumor of. Though the single small chapel had ostensibly been built by some past priest of St. Iocus, the few who made use of it largely prayed to whatever nameless god may be listening to bless their fields and flocks, that their friends and families might be content. Some had expressed a belief that their prayers had been answered when Müllenkamp had begun to spend summers there. Whether because of the additional labor or blessings bestowed from Sydney's gods for their kindness, their harvests had shown increase the past few years, and their flocks remained healthy. For Sydney and his followers, it had been a place of peace.</p><p>Thus when they reached the crest of the hill ahead, and got their first glimpse of what Hardin had seen, the dismay among them was almost tangible. Most had seen battle before the Blades' attempted ambush less than a week past, some had known battle before they had chosen to follow Sydney. The last of the great wars in Valendia had been fought more than twenty years past, and none of them had ever seen such devastation. Empty fields, some only half plowed; a handful of livestock here or there, wandering from the pens; for they shied away from the lingering smell of smoke, and the smell of it still wafted in the air among the blackened remains of what had once been many buildings nestled among the hills.</p><p>There they drew to a halt, looking out upon the scene, horrified. Seeing it with his own eyes - not Hardin's description, not in his dreams - left even Sydney at a loss, though he had had warning. The reaction of the others gave him some time to put his thoughts back together, though, and when his followers had calmed, he began to issue instructions. He still sensed no one in the immediate area, but it would be unwise to send out a single pair of scouts, or have anyone stray too far, when the situation was as of yet unknown. Instead, several of the brethren who had the skill of tracking went together to have a closer look around the edges of the town, to see if they could determine who had come and where they might have gone.</p><p>In the meantime, the rest followed at a slower pace, and tried to find a suitable place to set up camp for the night, if no additional danger presented itself. There were forests to the north of the road beyond the fields that might provide cover, provided no one and nothing waited within. Sydney himself went before them, and still sensing nothing, slipped away some distance into the trees. Everything seemed clear, and so he returned briefly, assigning guards and watches for the evening before he continued down the road towards what was left of Fentegel, to see what those who tracked might have been able to uncover.</p><p>Before he reached them, he <em>did</em> sense something, a presence nearby that was not familiar. In the distance, rather than close... Turning aside from the road again, Sydney followed the threads of the Dark towards the one whom they had revealed.</p><p>There was no cover as he strode across the fields south of the village proper, but that was a double-edged sword in a way; he would have been an easy target, for instance, for a bowgun fired from within the tall grass that edged it - but neither would an attacker be able to approach to collect their prey from such a distance before the Dark had restored him. And besides, as he grew nearer to the presence he had felt, he could sense more. Pity he hadn't had Hardin come with him - but then, he had strained Hardin's abilities enough this day already, and he had gotten by this long without such a talent. It was only a matter of getting close enough to properly read the feel of a person, and Sydney halted in the middle of the field. He was close enough to feel the fear, the sorrow, the anger... concern for a loved one, shaky determination to do his duty.</p><p>Instead of approaching, Sydney instead headed north again, towards the road that now led only to ashes. He was almost certain now that they could safely spend the night.</p><p>The tracking party was doing what they could in the waning light, several of them kneeling by the main road to examine something, but Kermiak was calling them over further, and Sydney went to join them. "More prints, in the days following the fire, from the looks of it," he was saying as Sydney came within earshot. "Work boots and soft leather shoes, mostly, and some small. Definitely not the footprints of soldiers."</p><p>Soldiers... so it had been as he had seen in his vision. "The survivors are hiding in the forest to the south," Sydney spoke up behind them, and they turned to him in surprise. "They must be weary by now, and hungry. Kermiak, Branla, go to Domenic and tell him to ready one of the horses. Load a generous supply of our remaining rations, and seek out these refugees to offer supplies and condolences. ...And if necessary, apologies. Take Henna with you - her talent will prove useful in determining their reaction before you approach." One of the few heartseers remaining with them now, powerful in the Dark but physically frail; Sydney's own talent told him that he was not alone in wishing Padric were still with them.</p><p>"Why don't you go yourself, Sydney?" Hardin asked.</p><p>Sydney's faint smile was bitter, remembering the anger he had sensed in the one who stood watch, and he turned away, drawing his hood up once more. "Somehow I think they might not be happy to see the one indirectly responsible for the deaths of their friends and families. It would be best to have a more neutral envoy, for the time being."</p><p>"Hmm..." Hardin apparently agreed, albeit reluctantly. <i>I understand, but it is unfair. ...Nothing fair about what happened to the villagers, either. The whole damned world is unfair, really.</i> At the moment, Sydney felt he agreed. </p><p>There was little more to be learned from examining the roads near town, and the daylight was fading besides, so the tracking party headed back to meet up with the brethren who had remained behind. Sydney, however, did not feel much like he deserved human companionship at present.</p><p>Which logically should have meant that he also did not deserve the companionship he sought as he walked further into the center of the scorched town, but the gods' grace was limitless. They knew his heart, and they knew he was doing the best that he could manage, even though he was sure it was not nearly enough.</p><p>They had spent enough time in Fentegel over the past few years that Sydney could still remember where many things had been. The baker, the blacksmith, the house of the man who served as physician and chemist... and, of course, the small church just off the town square, where he had at times counseled those among the townspeople who wanted to believe that there were powers greater than themselves, that something or someone was in control. </p><p>Parts of the frame still stood, and Sydney stood before them, looking up to what was left, and the sky beyond. <i>...I know that I am not truly to blame for this, that each man bears responsibility for his own actions, and I know that I do not have the power to change what You have shown me... but I also know this would not have happened had I not come here, and that was my decision. ...They may not have known Your names, but I pray that they have found Your rest, for their lives in this world were difficult, and their only sin was generosity toward Your children.</i></p><p>Beyond that, Sydney was not sure what to say even to his gods. He had been praying this manner of prayer so often in recent weeks, more so since they had left Leá Monde, that he felt he was repeating himself - unnecessary, when the gods already knew what was in his heart before he spoke even once. He closed his eyes, wondering but not praying, if perhaps the Lady would appear to him this time. Though his faith in the gods had not faltered, it was at present somewhat bitter. What good was his prophecy, if he could do nothing to stop the visions from coming to pass? ...What if he could do no more when the most dire prophecies began to be fulfilled? For he could not even protect this small village from the torches of mortal men...</p><p>At the moment, should they agree to it, he would take in the survivors as they had taken in his followers. It was the least he could do - if he could do it at all. Their provisions were already running low, their plans to work through the summer had been destroyed, and it was probably best that they stayed isolated, to avoid this happening again.</p><p>Which meant they needed to acquire money for food, rather than labor for it. Sydney knew where it could be acquired, but... in addition to having been rather pleased that it had not yet been necessary, the idea of taking advantage of that particular connection filled him with further dread. Already, thinking about where he must go and what he must do had made him feel smaller, more anxious, more useless...</p><p>Distracted as he was by his dark thoughts, Sydney didn't realize that someone was near until he heard footsteps. ...Of course, he thought dryly, and only half joking. He'd been wondering if they might send the Lady to counsel him, confronted as he was by his weaknesses and failings, and instead they sent John Hardin.</p><p>Sydney said nothing, waiting, and for a moment, Hardin also simply stood behind him in silence. "I suppose you foretold this as well."</p><p>"Yes, long ago," Sydney replied. "I did not know it would happen so soon."</p><p>Hardin hesitated a long time before speaking again. "I know this torments you. I know that you care for those who die unfairly. You need not keep this shield of yours raised all the time," he stated. "There are those who would comfort you, if only you would let them."</p><p><i>Those?</i> Sydney merely shrugged, for in a way Hardin was correct. "My comfort comes from the gods."</p><p>"Does it, Sydney? As familiar as they may be to you, you are a man. You are no god."</p><p>That proved he was speaking on behalf of only one single person, and Sydney couldn't help but smile slightly, turning to look at him. "Not to you, no."</p><p>Hardin didn't seem to find it amusing. "Then why is it that you insist upon being as ethereal and untouchable to me as they are?" he insisted. "Regardless of your power, and even your immortality, you are still flesh and blood - you feel, as much as you would deny it..."</p><p>How much had Hardin comprehended, in the midst of his own grief, that Sydney had been speaking not only of Hardin's need to be stern and steadfast, to show no weakness? Although Sydney knew very well that Hardin did not consider him 'untouchable', he was still surprised when Hardin suddenly reached out and pushed the hood of his cloak back, causing it to fall away. Reflexively, Sydney flinched and his hands started to rise to stop him - but then Hardin's fingers were at his temples, brushing the hair back from his face so that he might take it between his palms.</p><p>"You're flesh and blood, Sydney," Hardin said again, holding him still, so that Sydney had to look him in the eye. "And I know it."</p><p>His voice and his gaze were firm, at odds with the tender way his hands cupped Sydney's cheeks, his fingers poised as if to caress. Though startling, Sydney found this turn of events to also be very... intriguing. From the way Hardin's eyes suddenly widened slightly, so did he, and it was not what he had been intending.</p><p>It was terribly tempting to do something about that... but finally Sydney averted his eyes, with a faint chuckle. "You certainly do," he acknowledged, raising his hands to remove Hardin's, but gently. "Now stop that. This is neither the time nor the place."</p><p>Hardin sighed, and let his hands fall to his side. "No, of course not," he said, with a measure of irritation that was at least partially aimed at his own lack of self-control. "...I apologize... I should have said nothing at all, I suppose."</p><p>On the contrary, Hardin's intrusion had shaken Sydney out of his unpleasant thoughts, and made him feel a bit more like his usual self again - a little more like the man Hardin said he was instead of a frightened child. That line of thinking unfortunately led him to recall those unpleasant thoughts he'd been thinking when Hardin arrived, and the conclusion he'd come to. </p><p>And now, with Hardin there offering his support... The idea he'd only <em>just</em> had was somehow comforting, in spite of everything that had and would come to pass. After the last several nights, restless and miserable, perhaps the gods <em>had</em> sent Hardin to him at this moment for a reason. "I need to leave the brethren for a time," Sydney told him.</p><p>Hardin's lowered eyes rose to look at him again in surprise. "Why?"</p><p>"This village was willing to support us, politically and materially," Sydney explained. "We have no normal means of income, as you know, and so we must work for our food... however, we obviously cannot work here. There are other villages not unlike this one, but many days journey away, and the cardinal's men likely have laid traps for us on every road in Valendia. Besides, if we are to support the survivors of this tragedy, we will not have enough rations remaining to reach any one of those villages - even if they haven't already been burned just as Fentegel was." As if one was not bad enough, and he sighed faintly. "I really should have thought it through more," he admitted, "but I did not believe they would move so quickly..."</p><p>"You already know more than any other man," Hardin pointed out, "and you do what you think is best. It isn't your fault that you did not know this."</p><p>"I know," Sydney acknowledged, albeit with some bitterness. "However, it is my responsibility to protect and care for those who follow me, and now that we have no money and little food remaining..." As much as he loathed it, only one option seemed both safe and likely to have a good outcome for those who had given up so much to follow him. "I have little choice but to go to an old wealthy benefactor of ours, and request assistance. As much as it galls me that we should become a charity case, it is better than letting them starve."</p><p>"Ah... So we shall secret ourselves somewhere until you return, then?"</p><p>"Impossible," Sydney said, shaking his head. "The remaining rations are not enough for everyone to live comfortably on, now that we have some refugees to support as well - even supplemented by what small game might be found in the area. And with the cardinal's men so zealously seeking us, remaining in a large group would simply make the brethren easy to spot; without my protection, I fear they would make easy prey. I intend to have everyone form smaller bands - three to four people together at most - and spread out among the smaller farming estates and villages nearby, seeking work if they can find it. If not, well..." It was truly ironic, almost humorous. "We have already been named rogues by the authorities, controlled as they are by the church; if we must steal to eat for a time, so be it. Given the choice between petty thievery and going hungry, there is little else we can do. Once I have spoken to our benefactor, I can find the scattered brethren again with ease, if they return to this area - I have a bond with all those who have sworn fealty to the Dark."</p><p>Hardin had been listening attentively, considering Sydney's words as he spoke. "It seems a rather precarious plan. Or is there something else to it that you have not told me?"</p><p>"No, you are right," Sydney admitted. "But we must move quickly, and our options are limited... it is the best I can come up with for now. Unless you have a better plan?"</p><p>He would have welcomed it, but Hardin shook his head. "So then... how long will you be apart from us?"</p><p>...It was a perfect opening to ask. Still Sydney could not quite manage it. "The business itself should not take long," he replied. "No more than two or three days, I expect - but I will need to go nearly all the way back to Leá Monde. Traveling on my own is much faster than with the brethren, so perhaps twelve days, fifteen at the most. They should be able to avoid the templars by themselves for that long, if they are scattered."</p><p>"I'll do what I can to protect those who are with me, at least," Hardin told him. "And if there is something more I can do..."</p><p>There was, and Sydney made himself say it, though it made him feel smaller still. "Actually, Hardin," he said quietly, "...I was hoping you might be persuaded to come with me."</p><p>"With you?" Hardin repeated, surprised. "Why?"</p><p>How to answer that, Sydney wondered? He couldn't quite put it together in his own mind, and he suspected that even if he could have put it into words, he would have found himself too self-conscious to speak them aloud.  But Hardin didn't even need the words, did he? He had already offered what assistance Sydney asked of him. "Nothing overly difficult," Sydney said finally. "I think that I may have need of you."</p><p>Hardin looked puzzled, then slightly wary. "Did you foresee something?"</p><p>At least he wasn't <em>entirely</em> transparent to Hardin. Sydney couldn't suppress a small smile as he shook his head. "You think too much, Hardin. I may be an oracle, but as you pointed out only a short time ago, I am still a man."</p><p>Hardin thought about it for a moment, then the hint of a smile came to his lips as well. "Then I shall go with you," he agreed. "Whatever pleases you."</p><p>Sydney's own smile grew more earnest, relieved. "I'm glad." Perhaps Hardin was right... it hadn't been so difficult to ask. For him, somewhat unnerving and humbling, but at such a time... Sydney's pride was eroded already. He didn't have much further to fall.</p><p>-----</p><p>Even if Sydney's current rattled emotional state had made it possible for him to ask Hardin to come along with him, it left him vulnerable to second-guessing. Some of the survivors of Fentegel were, as he had predicted, resentful of him for having gotten them caught up in Müllenkamp's conflict with the king and the cardinal, though they were mostly appreciative that at least he was trying to protect them now. It did not help his feelings of inadequacy, and having made the decison to leave on the morrow, Sydney's dread of the journey - or rather, the destination - was growing stronger. It would have been a perfect time, he once would have thought, to drown his sorrows in the adoration and physical pleasure offered by one of his followers. Instead, the thought of being near-worshipped left him unsettled. He did not deserve it.</p><p>By the time he made up his blankets that night, after dividing up the brethren and the survivors of Fentegel into small groups as he had discussed with Hardin, he was wondering why he had invited Hardin to come along. He understood <em>why</em>, on some basic level. In spite of all the arguments he had been making to himself about why Hardin managed to work his way into Sydney's thoughts with such frequency, how his presence was both reassuring and aggravating, and all the other things that Sydney did not dare let himself explore too deeply - in spite of all that, Hardin <em>was</em> comforting, and had expressed on multiple occasions that he wanted to offer that comfort, and where Sydney was going? He needed all the comfort he could find.</p><p>But then, there were other more pragmatic reasons that the gods might have wanted Hardin to go with him. At the time, with Hardin's insistence that he was only a man, Sydney had been thinking of Hardin in the same way, and forgotten that perhaps he was not. It could be, for instance, that it would be wise to introduce Hardin - for someday it might be Hardin alone making such a petition.</p><p>And then there was the vision Sydney had seen of his likely successor. Alongside the sound of Hardin's voice, ringing out within the chapel. It could be that they were setting out precisely for that scene to unfold, whether it was a revelation about Hardin, or a revelation where Hardin was to be present.</p><p>But... Müllenkamp had said they had time yet. She often teased and spoke in riddles, but in that she had been unambiguous.</p><p>Yet another but: she had told Sydney to look closely at Hardin, and he would find the answer to his question. Which had been, what was he looking for? Sydney had spent a rather absurd amount of time looking at Hardin in the weeks since, and he still had no answer as to what his significance to their fellowship was to be. He'd received more suggestion in that regard from his dreams than he had from looking at John Hardin with his own eyes. His own eyes were easily distracted.</p><p>It would have been very helpful, he thought irritably as he stared up at the night sky, if she might deign to return and clarify. Or given that clarity was not among her strongest attributes, at least a hint. Ideally before whatever was to be came to be.</p><p>She did not appear, however, and Sydney eventually rolled over, adjusting his blankets. He needed to sleep, for he intended to set a fast pace in the morning, and continue on through much of the night. There was no time to waste on hoping for answers that would not come, or pondering mysteries he could not discern.</p><p>One thing was for certain, he told himself: he would stay away from the chapel, just in case. He was not ready.</p><p>...That was a lie. He served the gods, not himself. He knew perfectly well that he would do whatever they asked.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Though the gods did not see fit to send the Lady in response to his many questions, Sydney was at least blessed with relatively peaceful sleep for a change. Not entirely dreamless, but these were of mundane things turned mildly surreal, quickly forgotten when he woke rather than lingering. Only the ordinary dreams that all men dreamed - it would have seemed like a good omen, had his thoughts not instead turned to the journey ahead. </p><p>The dark clouds overhead made the prospect no more pleasant. Hardin had packed and was prepared to leave without so much as a word for the weather, but upon looking him over, Sydney opted to ask around for the loan of a hooded cloak for him as well. Once that was procured, Sydney bid his brethren farewell, offered up a blessing for them all, and then they could separate into the small parties he had assigned, while he and Hardin started out on a longer journey.</p><p>Even with cloaks and hoods to hide their appearance, it seemed wisest to stay off the roads, where the knights may have been waiting for them to return, or might simply chance to cross paths. Again Hardin had no complaint as Sydney set out towards the north, slowly bearing westward through field and forest, and he stayed close behind. At first, Sydney was a bit concerned about Hardin's stamina, but he kept up easily; the time he had spent resting at Leá Monde seemed to have been enough for him to recover his physical strength.</p><p>His emotional strength, perhaps not so much, given what had befallen him, and all that had befallen them since. It was encouraging that although they spoke seldom, Hardin did not seem particularly troubled. The occasional thoughts he let slip were mostly wondering if it might have been wiser for him to go with some of the others they had left behind, when some of them could have used his protection, and Sydney needed no such help.  Sydney gave no answer, seeing as Hardin did not ask aloud, but he wondered the same. It might have been a selfish decision.</p><p>But then, later on when the heavy rain began to fall and he required more focus to follow the path Sydney cut ahead, Hardin's shielding grew more uneven. Sydney found, unexpectedly, that Hardin's thoughts had instead turned to a dream, and whether or not it was merely a dream. Seeing as this was a subject Sydney might have been preoccupied with himself, but which most men did not question, Sydney was curious. More so when he heard Hardin's conclusion. <i>Surely that last vision of Müllenkamp was also no more than a dream... dreaming that I had awoken.</i> Walking a short distance behind with their faces hidden within their hoods, Hardin could not have seen Sydney's raised eyebrow, the sidelong glance in his direction. They would not waste breath talking about it while they kept such a quick pace, and while it was tempting to ask when they paused briefly to eat, that would have given them little time to discuss the matter if it seemed worth examining.</p><p>And of course, eventually they would stop to sleep. By then, they had traveled well into the night, and made it back to the main roads. The plan was to travel mostly at night, when there was less chance of being seen, and find shelter well off the road to rest during the day. So far it had worked well enough, aside from the adverse weather, and Sydney already had learned of one reason to be glad he had brought Hardin along - as Sydney worked his magic to coax a fire from wet wood, Hardin reinforced the low-hanging limbs of the large evergreen beneath which they sheltered, weaving fallen branches through them to keep more of the rain and cold wind out. Although Sydney was by this time used to such inconveniences as sleeping in the damp, he didn't care for it, and the drier their rest, the better.</p><p>After the day's swift travel, they did not speak much even once they had settled, only partaking of a quick meal and unrolling their blankets. The weather was still cold and damp, however, and there were a few hours left before dawn, and neither of them was eager to put out the fire. Sitting there quietly in the warm glow, having set aside their wet cloaks, it was almost comfortable.</p><p>Finally, Sydney's curiosity got the better of him. "So, you dreamed of our Lady, did you?"</p><p>Hardin looked up sharply at the unexpected question. "...Yes."</p><p>"Hmm..." It was entirely possible that someone might merely <em>dream</em> of her, though Sydney suspected <em>he</em> never had. "Very interesting."</p><p>"It was only a dream, Sydney," Hardin told him, if with a hint of uneasiness. "There is no meaning in the dreams of a normal man like myself."</p><p>"True enough," Sydney acknowledged, "but our Lady has been known to reveal herself in dreams before, to those she favors. ...And sometimes to those she does not," he added with a smirk. "She can be a bit... mischievous. It is a part of her charm."</p><p>That idea didn't seem to please Hardin. "But... it was certainly only a dream," he protested. "It made little sense - only a variant of-" He stopped there abruptly, then continued on, subdued. "...Of a dream I have had before. It is not so unusual, what with the smell of the burned village nearby and the stories you'd been filling my head with in the last week."</p><p>Sydney could guess what he had been about to say, and why he had not said it. Though Hardin never spoke of it aloud, often while they were within Leá Monde, he had found Hardin awake and unusually quiet even for him at odd hours, often starting the day a bit too early, sitting outside by the river. Whatever he had seen last night, however, was different, and had left him even more ill at ease - to the point that he even flinched back when Sydney leaned forward with interest. "Well, there is one way to know for certain, isn't there?" Sydney observed. "Tell me about this dream of yours, Hardin. If it is a mere dream, I will know, and you need no longer be troubled by it. If not, perhaps the gods will grant me wisdom to divine a meaning."</p><p>Reluctantly, Hardin nodded. "There is not much to the telling, though. I... was back in the prison-" Though his expression hardly changed and his voice was even, Sydney could feel the chill that ran through him at no more than the memory of a dream. "-and a fire broke out. Just when I thought for certain that I would either be overcome by the smoke or roast alive from the heat, she appeared," Hardin continued, "and told me to rise and follow her."</p><p>If it had been Müllenkamp herself, as she was when she came to him... "In our tongue?" Sydney asked.</p><p>"Nay, she spoke gibberish, but her meaning was clear." That was... unusual, Sydney thought. Not the way she spoke to him, but in a simple dream, one normally would hear speech in their native tongue, or one they knew.</p><p>"Once I had gotten to my feet, she ... did something to the bars," Hardin continued, "and they vanished, and then she walked through the fire outside the cell and vanished as well, leaving me behind. I was... well, reluctant to walk into the flames, to say the least."</p><p>"A logical reaction," Sydney observed.</p><p>"Yes, and so I remained in the cell. She reappeared behind me then, putting her arms around me, and asked if I wanted to remain there forever. I did not know what to answer... and then I was on the hillside with the brethren once more."</p><p>"You woke up?"</p><p>"I thought so," Hardin said, "but when I turned to look at the campfire, I found she was still present, dancing about in the flames. It startled me so much that I sat up, and that was when I came awake."</p><p>"I see," Sydney murmured. "Indeed, very interesting." On the surface, it could have been a mere dream, but the bit about her speaking a language Hardin did not understand... At times, she had spoken to him in a tongue long dead to all but a few. </p><p>"...It was only a dream, Sydney," Hardin repeated, somewhat more uneasy. "...Was it not?"</p><p>"I'm not sure," Sydney told him honestly. "Do you remember her exact words? The... 'gibberish' that she spoke?" Unsurprisingly, Hardin shook his head, and Sydney paused. He wondered how much Hardin trusted him. "Then would you permit me to do a bit of delving?" he asked. "I promise that it cannot hurt you, though I imagine you would find it very odd at first."</p><p>"Delving?"</p><p>"Yes, it involves pulling forth memories of a time or place," Sydney explained, "and reawakening them - in essence, living through them again, but removed from yourself, as an observer. It is not a skill that I often have use for, but I must admit that you've sparked my curiosity."</p><p>Hardin looked even more wary than he had been, but after a pause, he nodded. "You can try it, I suppose... but I can't be sure that I would be able to make out her words even now."</p><p>"If they are indeed her native tongue, I will understand them." Sydney leaned forward, giving Hardin what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he lifted one hand towards Hardin's face. "I will be at your side. Relax now, and let us watch."</p><p>The claws of his right hand rested upon Hardin's cheek, and Sydney closed his eyes, listening as the Dark brought Hardin's memories forth.</p><p>The prison cell was smaller than Sydney had expected. He could tell, even despite the smoke that billowed through the bars before the place where he and Hardin stood, looking down at Hardin, who also lay at their feet, coughing, speaking in a weak whisper. "Elabrin ti vamota, ext tarin eckra ti radiniata Tamulis..."</p><p>...Hardin had not mentioned <em>that</em>. "...radiniata Tamulis..." Sydney repeated, pondering.</p><p>Beside him, the phantom of Hardin's present consciousness looked at him with mild alarm. "Sydney-" Hardin began, but Sydney held his own phantom hand to his lips, gesturing for him to be silent. What else might Hardin have left out?</p><p>Also familiar was the sound of the Lady's arrival, the chiming of her ornaments at the edge of hearing. Hardin should not have known that, Sydney thought - and then was distracted when she did speak, aloud. "Vyldar, palidas." ...Sydney found that even more interesting.</p><p>She had knelt before Hardin, but through word and gesture urged him to stand, and whether conscious of her words or not, Hardin had obeyed. As he had described, she turned to touch the bars at the front of the cell, which vanished - and then she turned back and smiled, beckoning to Hardin before walking out into the midst of the flames.</p><p>Hardin, however, did not obey this time. He remained staring after her until a torch that had fallen caught fire and flared up suddenly, causing him to step back - into her waiting arms, which reached around to embrace him, and she smiled. Unlike what Hardin had described, she said nothing, but that could be explained. "And she used the mindspeak to ask her question?" Sydney asked.</p><p>"Or something akin to it. It was not so much speech as it was ideas," Hardin explained, "not unlike the way dreamers often just... <em>know</em> things in a dream."</p><p>"Hmm..." Of course even with the link between minds, they spoke different languages; Hardin would not have comprehended the words if she had used them. "That would be the way to do it," Sydney mused.</p><p>"To do what?"</p><p>Before Sydney could reply, even to hush him again, the bright flames gave way to a dark hilltop, lit only by a modest campfire - which, when the just-awakened Hardin turned onto his side, held the image of the Lady. With a smile, she lifted her arm, flourishing her silken veils as she whirled. It certainly <em>seemed</em> like her to Sydney...</p><p>"This was not a dream, was it?" Hardin asked at his side. "She was there..."</p><p>"To be honest, I cannot be sure," Sydney admitted. There was nothing more ahead, the dream had ended, and so Sydney ended his delving, drawing back his hand from Hardin's face. Once again the two of them sat beneath the evergreen boughs, by their smaller fire. "It would be strange of her to appear to you in such a way, and she did not visit me last night... though that might be because she knew I would be angry with her," he added under his breath.</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>That last had been Sydney thinking aloud, and he shook his head. "It's... complicated. Anyhow, though I cannot be certain about the last vision, it seems likely that it was she in your dream."</p><p>"Seems likely?" Hardin repeated. "I saw the look on your face - you recognized her words, though I did not. She was speaking Kildean, wasn't she?"</p><p>"Yes, she was. However, I'm not so sure you did not recognize the words yourself - seeing as you spoke in the same tongue only moments earlier - and that means that you could have dreamed them. But then, if you had, would she..." The combination of speaking aloud in Kildean and using the mindspeak the same way she usually did with Sydney almost immediately afterwards was puzzling. It was unusual but not unheard of for her to use both in Sydney's dreams, and if Hardin had dreamed that he could not understand her, why would he then have dreamed that he <em>could</em> understand her meaning later?</p><p>Sydney sat still, staring into the fire, resting his chin in his hands thoughtfully as he tried to sort through what he had seen. What was possible, what was not possible... what was likely and unlikely. Finally, Hardin broke their silence with a hesitant question. "Sydney... why was I speaking Kildean?"</p><p>"You did not recognize the words, did you?"</p><p>"Only the last."</p><p>"I thought not." There was of course an explanation as to why Müllenkamp might converse with Hardin in Kildean, particularly when he had spoken it first, but Sydney did not think Hardin would like it. "I believe this is not the first time your soul has allied itself with the Dark," he told Hardin. He'd been trying to put it delicately, but from the expression on his face, Hardin understood. "The word Müllenkamp greeted you with, <i>palidas</i>..." Sydney continued, "the closest word in our language would probably be 'warrior', but it is rather specific, and therefore not a word she would use towards just anyone. And you recognized the name Tamulis from our lessons, I suppose - the name of the Kildean god of fire; your words were the beginning of an ancient ritual prayer, asking for mercy."</p><p>"Reincarnation, then."</p><p>"Yes - those who serve the Dark are often given the option to return to this world in a new body, when the old has been destroyed." They had gone over this upon the day of Padric's death, but given how distraught Hardin had been, Sydney was not sure how much he had managed to absorb. "I myself have lived many lifetimes, she tells me," he added, more quietly, "and I have always served her in some way. You could say I am fated." He couldn't be sure about past lives, but in the present one, she had claimed he could choose... so was it fate at all, or was he only asked because he had always accepted? What would have become of his soul, if he had tried more seriously to resist?</p><p>"...And I?" Hardin asked.</p><p>Yes, Sydney had already considered that this had implications for Hardin and his place among them as well. "It would explain much, I suppose... but I could not say." It seemed there was someone who could, and he offered Hardin a wry smirk. "I could ask her for you, if you would like."</p><p>"...That's not necessary."</p><p>"I thought not." Sydney went back to staring into the flames absently. "One life's trouble is enough for a man, is it not, Hardin? Sometimes more than enough."</p><p>He didn't look up, but beside him, he felt Hardin nod. Likely thinking about that prison cell... Sydney had only seen a glimpse of it before - the night they'd chanced to meet, when he had intentionally looked deeper into Hardin's heart than he ordinarily would without permission, just to be sure he posed no threat. He had no reason to ask, and Hardin had not offered. It was no wonder, he thought, that Hardin preferred open skies to walls and ceilings.</p><p>"You know," he said quietly, "I have spent some time in prisons myself."</p><p>Hardin shifted again, looking at him in surprise. "It was before I gained all of my current power, of course," Sydney continued. "When you live such a life as I have, filled with visions of important, world-altering events - even the end of this age - which no one wants to hear... it stirs many passions, provokes varied reactions in mankind." He had to smile faintly at the memory of how naive he had been - how innocent. A temporary local arrest, a large cell shared with others, to be released when they'd 'slept it off', or some concerned relative came to claim them. Being detained as merely a rabble-rouser, it was nothing like the dungeon where Hardin had been kept, to remain until he had been all but forgotten.</p><p>"It was many years ago, and not for a great deal of time - only a few days. Of course," he added, shrugging off the memory, "since that time I have been within the walls of a few others, not as a prisoner but as a liberator, for there have been times that a follower of mine was captured by the king's men, or the cardinal's. But though I've only the one real experience with the sort of prison that shattered you so, I'm well acquainted with another kind. Since I've grown strong enough in the Dark that no manmade prison - nor death itself - could hold me," Sydney told Hardin, "I've been held in a more intangible sort. My captor is none but the future itself... the future I have seen."</p><p>Possibly he was saying too much, in more than one way, and he hesitated. After a pause, Hardin nodded. He was listening, he was not put off by the very personal analogy. Of course he was listening, Sydney thought - it was Hardin. Whenever Sydney had shown or spoken of any sort of weakness, Hardin listened, and accepted.</p><p>In that case, Sydney continued. "I am not fond of either sort of prison," he said. "Especially not when good men are held within. But there is a safety of sorts there - you know what to expect, and you are provided for, albeit sparsely. There is no effort to be made, no risks to be taken... though life may not be pleasant, at least it goes on without difficulty."</p><p>Finally, he looked up from the fire again. "If you were given the choice in the dream, Hardin," he asked quietly, "if you were forced to choose between suffocating helplessly in the cell or burning in the fire, which would you choose?"</p><p>Hardin didn't need much time to consider. "I believe I'm burning at this very moment," he replied, his voice low and solemn. "We must have a choice, or there is no point to our lives, no matter how many we may live."</p><p>He understood what Sydney meant, then. Sydney nodded, and dared to meet his eyes. "I have always chosen to burn as well."</p><p>And more than metaphorically. So far from anyone else, the two of them talking about such heavy topics and understanding, agreeing, <em>connecting</em>... their shared experiences in their present lives... the possibility that in some other time, some other place, with some other eyes, Hardin had looked at Sydney the way he was looking at him right now...</p><p>But even if that were the case, Hardin was not yet bound. "I would not willingly send you from one prison to another, Hardin," Sydney murmured. "The path I walk is no easy one, and you have not yet spoken any vows. You could leave us, and be free..."</p><p>Hardin hesitated, then a small, reassuring smile came to his lips. "I <em>am</em> free, Sydney."</p><p>But for how long? Given his visions, and their destination, it was possible that Hardin would have to choose his path very soon, or have it chosen for him. </p><p>Distracted by his concerns, Sydney didn't realize that Hardin was reaching out until a hand came to rest gently upon his back, the faintest caress felt through the wool of his cloak. A sign, perhaps, that Hardin was willing to let them both burn in the most pleasurable of ways...</p><p>He did not know what he was offering. Because it was <em>Hardin</em>, and it was who he was; if he and Sydney gave in to their mutual desire now, Hardin would stay. Sydney was certain Hardin would stay. ...And Sydney would want him to.</p><p>Sydney steeled himself, and turned away. "I suppose it's about time we put the fire out," he remarked. It did not have to be a rebuke, for they had warmed themselves long enough, and must sleep; he moved a bit closer to the fire, extinguishing it with a word of command.</p><p>As the embers faded, and with them the last dim light, Sydney went to pull back his blankets to lie down. "Good night, Hardin."</p><p>In the darkness, he heard a quiet sigh, and the rustling of Hardin's blankets. "Yes... good night," was all Hardin said, and then the only sound was the rain in the forest around them.</p><p>Sydney lay there, hoping sleep overtook them both soon. He never should have asked Hardin to come with him.</p><p>-----</p><p>The weather and Sydney's mood continued to be bleak for the remainder of their journey - unsurprising, as they were headed into the Graylands - but Sydney spent the final hours bracing himself. After traveling all night, he suggested not stopping to sleep just yet, for they were close enough to their destination that waiting until evening to continue on would cause them to arrive unacceptably late. That would not do when they were approaching someone of such high rank, as much as Sydney would have liked to put it off for longer. Moreover, he and Hardin were both weary of being wet and cold, and that at least was a benefit of arriving as soon as possible.</p><p>Unfortunately this meant that at the time they reached the manor, Sydney was not only wet, cold, and tense, but tired as well. He firmly reminded himself that he was the Keeper of the Dark, unable to be damaged by even sword or plague. He could certainly manage to comport himself with dignity in the face of mere discomfort... even if Hardin was there, so often intent on reminding him that he was still a man. His very presence seemed a rebuke to Sydney's determination and pride.</p><p>As they cleared the trees, Hardin's mind was elsewhere, seeing as he knew nothing of Sydney's inner struggle. He appeared thoughtful, and given that he was also cold, wet, and tired, he was not shielding his thoughts well enough for Sydney to not sense the moment when he recognized why the walls and inner buildings looked familiar. "Your mysterious benefactor is Duke Aldous Byron Bardorba?"</p><p>Sydney couldn't suppress a smirk - Hardin didn't sound like he believed it. "Surprised, are you?"</p><p>"I expected someone less... important."</p><p>"You expected some minor noble with a grudge against the monarchy," Sydney presumed. He supposed it might come as a surprise that he had connections to Duke Bardorba, a fixture in the Parliament for many decades. "But no, the duke has been a supporter of my faith for many years - even long before I was born. The teachings of Müllenkamp have been passed down among the Bardorba family for many centuries." Nearly all others among the nobility who had not thrown in their lot with the church of St. Iocus and thus the king had slowly been removed or at the very least cowed. The Bardorba family, however, had been present for countless generations, nearly pre-dating Leá Monde, and the duke himself had been a hero of Valendia's great civil war, decades past; few there were with both the courage and the fortitude to stand against a Bardorba. Between their honorable legacy and a cleverness that seemed to be hereditary, none had been able to rid Parliament of their influence thus far, and the Duke would go no more easily than those who came before.</p><p>"So then..." Hardin was bewildered. "...Is he one of your followers in secret?"</p><p>Sydney couldn't help but laugh, though cynically. Now <em>that</em> was an amusing thought. "Duke Bardorba, following such a rogue as I? Not likely, Hardin. Every man's beliefs create a religion unique to himself, and though the duke believes in the same gods as I, he keeps his faith in his own way."</p><p>Hardin seemed to have something else in mind, though. "I had heard that his wife was a prominent figure in the church of Iocus."</p><p>"Oh, she is," Sydney muttered. They were drawing near to the gates, however, and there was a sentry posted. Even had he wanted to say more on the subject, their conversation would have to stop for now. </p><p>"Who goes there?" the sentry called out to them as they approached the portcullis. "And what business have you with Duke Bardoba?" A few other guards were falling into place behind him in case they did not like Sydney's answer, for it was not often that cloaked strangers appearing out of the forest rather than arriving by the main road had anything noble in mind. </p><p>And in fact, Sydney's answer did not sit well with them - he simply reached up and pulled his hood back to reveal himself. Normally he would have been amused at the way they froze. "Ah... you," the sentry muttered. "The duke is not here now - he and the duchess are gone on a holiday to another of his holdings."</p><p>So this would take longer still. Sydney did not permit his expression to reflect the way his heart sank, but remained perfectly serene. "We can wait."</p><p>The guards hesitated, but realized they had no choice. The portcullis began to rise, and they parted to allow Sydney and Hardin entrance, eyeing them warily as the two men passed into the outer courtyard.</p><p>Sydney, knowing the way well, made for the front door of the manor proper, with Hardin following close behind. "Not to doubt your judgment, Sydney," he said with lowered voice, "but that lot looks as though they'd turn us over to the cardinal's men without a second thought."</p><p>"They would," Sydney agreed, "had they not pledged loyalty to the duke. Though their beliefs are at odds with mine, their honor demands that they obey him, regardless of their thoughts on the matter. He informed them long ago that I am welcome here, and so they will not trouble us." It was satisfying, in a sadistic sort of way. "The duchess may have chosen servants who are of her own flock, but it is the duke to whom they are sworn. It is rather frustrating for her, I imagine, but quite fortunate for us."</p><p>Once inside, Sydney ignored the startled looks and barely polite nods from most of the staff, as one of the duke's retainers was approaching to greet them more formally. "Ah... Sydney." The man's nervousness was only increased by the fact that he had nearly slipped and greeted Sydney in a different way; the look Sydney fixed him with made it clear that he had better not. "The duke has taken leave for a time, I'm afraid-"</p><p>"So I hear."</p><p>"May I assume, then, that you will be staying here until he returns?" the man inquired.</p><p>"You may."</p><p>"I see..." The man pressed a cloth to his brow nervously. "Well then, I suppose you and your... friend, here, shall be staying in your usual suite. This is rather unexpected, so the rooms are not ready... I'll have someone make the beds - and shall I have hot baths drawn for you both?"</p><p>"Yes, thank you - that would be appreciated," Sydney replied, with such excruciating politeness as to make it clear how absurd the man's behavior was. "We've come quite a long way, and the weather has not been favorable for traveling." He turned his friendly smile to Hardin. "It will be good to be warm and clean again at last, won't it?"</p><p>His smile did not fool Hardin, whose expression remained solemn. "Indeed."</p><p>"I'll make it so, then," the retainer said with a nod. "You know the way, Sydney, so I shall excuse myself to make ready. Fortunately your wait will not be a long one; the duke is scheduled to return tomorrow evening."</p><p>Hardin looked after the man as he disappeared down a hallway with a speed that was hardly casual. "He meant fortunately for himself, no doubt."</p><p>"For all of us," Sydney murmured.</p><p>With the retainer's departure, they were alone in the front hall, and Sydney had let the pretense of welcome greetings evaporate. It did not escape Hardin's notice. "There's nothing to be done about it," he remarked. "It isn't much of a delay, at any rate - the brethren can take care of themselves, so what does another day matter?"</p><p>That wasn't what Sydney was concerned about at all, and it only added to his discontent. Rather than replying, seeing as his usual rooms were apparently vacant, he set out for them. Best to be out from under the wary eyes of the servants as quickly as possible.</p><p>Hardin followed, and took a moment to look around the rooms when they arrived. Sydney had little need, for they looked much the same as they had the last time he'd been present, but for the hearth and the mattresses being bare. That would be corrected soon, he had no doubt, so he sat down and began to get out of his cloak, soaked and heavy as it had become. That would help somewhat, but Sydney already felt slightly ill. Being in the duke's primary manor once again felt the same as it had in the past - the same sights, the same smells... the same suite, with the bedroom and bath and balcony off the sitting room beyond wide stone arches... the same draperies and candlesticks... certainly the same emotions. </p><p>It did not take long before the maids arrived, and Sydney disappeared into the bath as soon as they returned from drawing the water. The warmth might help to relax him as well, but even if it only soothed away his physical discomfort, it would be welcome. Limbs of metal were easily cleaned, and Sydney simply lay back in the gentle embrace of the water, isolated behind the screens that separated the baths, half-listening to voices in the front room. He could not quite make out what Hardin and the maids were saying... and he did not care to listen in. It mattered little. Hardin would say nothing he shouldn't, of course, and as for the maids, they should know better as well. When he heard Hardin enter and go to the other bath, Sydney didn't even bother asking. He was... so very tired.</p><p>Although Hardin said nothing, and he said nothing to Hardin, it was still somewhat comforting to have him so near. The occasional splashes, telling Sydney he was not alone, though he had his privacy as he rested in the pleasant warmth. He even nearly smiled a bit as he felt Hardin's shields slipping in a manner he was familiar with, after traveling alone with him for a few days; Hardin was tired as well, and falling asleep in the water. It was an amusing and endearing prospect, and Sydney remained quiet for as long as he could before he inevitably had to get out of the water and dry off. As it turned out, the bath <em>had</em> helped.</p><p>He was going to have to endure for some time, however, he thought as he sat upon the now-made bed and considered. Tired as he was, he wanted to sleep... but he wasn't sure he could. Better to tire himself completely, Sydney supposed, and dressed again, donning one of the white robes that had been left in the bath chambers to cover the tattoo and most of his arms. It would mitigate things at least a little bit.</p><p>One of the things that drove him mad about Duke Bardorba's manor was... Sydney rarely was away from the brethren. The brethren, as they had heartseers among them often, mostly were very good at keeping their hearts to themselves. In a place like this, where the people did not know the Dark or the gifts it bestowed, no one took such precautions. Their thoughts and feelings were broadcast every which way, and unlike a town where he was not known - or where he had been welcomed, as with Fentegel - the duchess's servants had very distinct thoughts and feelings at the sight of Sydney. Even with the most problematic features hidden, as he made his way through the halls, he was battered time and time again with derision, fear, and revulsion as the duchess's staff saw him walking about. Occasionally, there was delightfully malicious mockery about why he might have brought Hardin along. Worse yet was the occasional sense of sadness, or pity.</p><p>Such was the case with the woman he spotted on her way into the kitchen, when he paused there to request that someone awaken Hardin for dinner. <i>...He seems kind enough to his friend. Poor lost soul... Surely the Light would welcome him back, should he repent.</i> Sydney kept his face neutral and excused himself.</p><p>By the time he reached the library, Sydney was feeling almost as unpleasant as he had before the bath. Some familiar, comfortable reading then, he supposed, and looked over the bookshelves. The duke was not as avid a reader as he, but he had acquired quite a collection even so, and if Sydney remembered correctly... Yes, just as when he had last been at the manor, there was an old, well-read copy of the Zodiac Brave Story among the many volumes. Perhaps that would make him feel a bit less irritable, he thought, settling down at a desk and chair in the corner.</p><p>That was, if he could be left alone long enough to lose himself in the text, he thought with mild annoyance as he looked up only a short time later to find Hardin in the doorway. "What is it?"</p><p>"Are you busy, Sydney? There are a few things I'd like to know, about the duke and his family and servants..."</p><p>Sydney could just imagine. "I can assure you we will be safe here," Sydney told him, "if that is what you were wondering. Though the heirarchy of Iocus' religion is filled with hypocrites, the majority of the common believers are earnest. They speak the truth and keep their oaths, for to them Iocus is a deified saint, not a dead man. Thus they believe oaths sworn to him to have meaning, and they therefore keep them faithfully. The disciples of Iocus are not all bad," he noted, "it is those who knowingly spread a false gospel and exploit the simple faith of the people for their own ambition that I take issue with."</p><p>Hardin nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose that's a fair assessment. If you say it is so, then I will trust you. But also," he went on to say, "I was curious about how this came to pass. You said that the duchess is indeed of the Iocus faith, as I'd heard - does she know of her husband's beliefs? Do his servants?"</p><p>Sydney didn't want to talk about this. In a sense, he couldn't. "They know that I am to be allowed to stay even when the duke is not here," he stated, still staring down at the pages before him. "Does that not make the answer to your question rather obvious?"</p><p>"Not necessarily," Hardin pointed out. "I haven't the slightest idea what the history is between the two of you, if he is not a follower of yours as you said earlier. Why would he support you and the brethren anyway?"</p><p>Hardin was beginning to sound a bit irritable himself. It was just as well - perhaps he could be convinced to drop the subject. "That is the business of Duke Bardorba and myself," Sydney told him, and then looked up to him, letting his own irritation show through. "You look tired, Hardin - why not go back to our rooms and sleep?"</p><p>
  <i>Me? He's the one who sounds like a cranky toddler in need of a nap.</i>
</p><p>Whether it was fatigue or the vehemence of Hardin's annoyance, Sydney heard that thought, and most definitely did not appreciate it. Hardin actually <em>flinched</em> at the look Sydney gave him, and held up a hand in surrender. "A... all right, Sydney. I'm sorry to trouble you."</p><p>Sydney merely nodded, and when Hardin turned to go, he looked back down to the book, trying to remember where he had left off.</p><p>"...Sydney."</p><p>Again? Sydney looked up to Hardin, standing just past the doorway and looking back at him. This time Hardin didn't flinch. "Don't forget that you are the one who suggested I come with you," he stated plainly. "Whatever your purpose was in doing so - and I still haven't the slightest idea what that might be - I can offer you little assistance when I don't understand the situation, and less if you simply send me away when I ask."</p><p>That was a fair point, admittedly... but seeing as Sydney wasn't sure himself, and admitting that would <em>surely</em> set off another round of Hardin trying to coax him into talking about what was troubling him, Sydney opted to ignore it and look back to his book until he heard Hardin's footsteps leaving.</p><p>Once he was sure Hardin was gone, he let himself sink his head into his hands. He didn't mean to annoy Hardin, especially when he knew perfectly well that Hardin was trying to help. He was just so tired, and so rattled... and, he realized with irritation now aimed at himself, that now even if he thought he <em>could</em> sleep, it would be awkward to go back to their suite. Apparently he was more rattled than even he had thought.</p><p>He let himself give in and acknowledge his misery for a few moments longer, then returned to trying to remember where he had left off reading, only to find he didn't remember reading any of the words on the pages that lay open.</p><p>The rest of the day was spent in much the same manner. He <em>was</em> the Keeper of the Dark, he repeated to himself yet again - he could do a great many things that no one else could do, and surely he could focus on reading. And after a time, he did manage to ignore the uneasiness, letting himself be lost in the familiar tale, words he knew nearly by heart, mental imaginings of the characters and their deeds bright before him. His drowsiness may have helped in that regard, preventing him from thinking overmuch on anything that was not right before him as the book was. A few times he paused in his reading, distracted by his imagination - and then he gave in, resting his head in his arms upon the table, letting the daydreams turn to real dreams if they so pleased.</p><p>The dreams that came to him were not of the legend, nor were they the visions and prophecies that so often marked his slumber, and although Sydney could not remember them upon waking, they left him feeling as unsettled as before. He thought to go walk it off in the fresh air, perhaps one of the gardens or courtyards, but then realized it was not yet dinnertime. The staff would be everywhere, going about their duties... At least in the library he was alone, and he paced back and forth among the bookshelves until he had calmed enough to sit down and continue his reading.</p><p>Or try. He was very tempted to go back to the suite and attempt sleep in earnest, but the Dark told him Hardin was, as he had suggested, already there and asleep. Sydney didn't want to disturb him, or face further questioning if Hardin did wake. </p><p>At last Sydney gave up, after being startled out of his thoughts by one of the servants arriving with a plate of dinner. He might have known, and he almost was sincere as he smiled and thanked the young woman, accepting it graciously - and then, after she was gone, pushing it aside and ignoring it. His stomach was unsettled as the rest of him.</p><p>That was essentially the end of him trying to read, for his mind kept straying anyhow, and he opted not to fight it, instead wandering back and forth among the tall bookshelves. Ironic, he thought; all his power, taking mortal wounds numerous times and recovering, having seen so many he cared for pass away, receiving prophecies of the world's end, managing to push through it all with at least the appearance of calm - and yet <em>these walls</em> left him helplessly shaken. Then again, when he was among the brethren, he was forced to maintain his composure for their sakes, and here? No one had need of him. Except perhaps for the duke...</p><p>That was something he could put off worrying about for the time being. They had matters to discuss beyond the request for financial assistance, but depending on how events transpired, he wasn't sure what he might say. </p><p>As the night grew longer, and Sydney grew more impatient and annoyed with himself, he suddenly found a new reason: whether it was because he was so ill at ease or because he was so dreadfully tired, he had forgotten that he didn't have to walk the hallways of the manor to leave the peaceful solitude of the library.</p><p>If he couldn't read, then being out of doors - that sounded appealing. And if it helped even a bit, he really <em>should</em> try to eat something.</p><p>Moments later, though his teleportation took a minimal effort here rather than the mere thought required within Leá Monde, he was in one of the inner courtyards. So long after sunset, there was no one present, or even particularly nearby. No one to stare at him, or think unpleasant thoughts at him. It would do.</p><p>The rain had lessened significantly, and within the shelter of the manor walls, the wind was not so cold. The brisk weather actually felt somewhat good to Sydney at the moment, the minor physical discomfort distracting from less tangible unpleasantness. After a little while, he even dared to sit down beneath the meager shelter of an ornamental tree and unwrap the cloth from the bit of bread he'd brought with him from his abandoned dinner plate, in hopes that the fresh air might help his appetite. It was no longer warm, of course, but still freshly baked, and Sydney found that once he took a bite, it was more appealing than he had expected to find it. He smiled faintly; in the morning he should stop by the kitchen, he thought, and see if the same cook he had known had retained her position.</p><p>If he wasn't otherwise occupied or utterly exhausted, at any rate. Having calmed himself and eaten a little bit, his thoughts returned to his business with the duke, and the things that had happened that required his visit, and the fact that he would inevitably have to speak with the duchess as well, if minimally, and... all the many thoughts that came along with that.</p><p>By the time he had decided to go back to the suite and attempt sleep somewhere more appropriate than under a tree - for he had almost dozed off again - he was much calmer than he had been, but no less unhappy or preoccupied. He had also nearly forgotten that Hardin had accompanied him, until a stirring upon the other bed startled him. "Sydney," a soft, drowsy voice asked, "is everything well?"</p><p>Sydney wondered how much of his doings Hardin might have seen, given that Sydney could not so easily identify the sense of his presence outside Leá Monde, and he had not been watching for it. Even so, he hadn't given Hardin much of interest to look at. "Everything is fine, Hardin," he said, hoping he did not sound quite so weary as he felt, and resumed removing the robe he'd been wearing. "Go back to sleep."</p><p>In the faint, filtered light from the hearth, Sydney saw that Hardin made no such move, but simply lay there, watching him. Staring at him. <em>Questioning</em> him. His irritation flared up again. "Go to sleep, Hardin. Or does it please you so much to watch me undress? Shall I do a little dance for you as well, as a common whore might do?"</p><p>"What is <em>wrong</em> with you?" Hardin asked, appalled at the outburst. He looked as if... no, Sydney knew what Hardin would have looked like if he'd struck him, since he had seen it already. Much more alarmed, much less offended.</p><p>After a moment, though, his expression softened to contrition. "Forgive me, Sydney... You know that is not how I think of you, not at all."</p><p>Yes, Sydney knew that very well. He was just... He was making everything even worse, he thought to himself, as Hardin obediently turned over. Why did he keep taking out his frustrations on Hardin? The answer came to him almost instantly - it was because Hardin was the only one he could take out his frustrations on, and that did not mean he should.</p><p>Sydney thought, briefly, as he finished undressing and pulled back his own blankets, of apologizing. But that risked further conversation, or at the very least pity, and thus risked him saying something else carelessly rude. With a sigh, he just tried to make himself comfortable. He hoped the duke would return soon - he wasn't sure how much more damage he might do if he had to stay for long.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The following day looked to be just as dull and colorless as the last when Sydney gave up on sleep, seeing as it was nearly dawn and he'd been only lying awake thinking for some time. He wasn't sure it was an improvement over the dreams.</p>
<p>Hardin still slept in the bed across from his own, and given that he'd been awoken by Sydney entering the room the night before, Sydney thought it best to ensure that he remained restful. He got up and dressed as quietly as possible despite the use of the minor spell, as if the day ahead might not find him if he remained silent.</p>
<p>Once he had covered himself with the robe he'd taken up the previous day, however, and laid out a few additional garments in hopes that he would be holding audience with the duke later, Sydney sat down on the bed once more, watching Hardin in peaceful slumber, his breathing deep and even. At least it seemed peaceful; Sydney hoped he had not trapped Hardin in the prison cell again. As Hardin's heart held no indication of fear or other distress, it seemed unlikely. </p>
<p>This was good, because Sydney already felt terrible about how rudely he'd treated Hardin the day before. He did not vow or swear - because he would not make an oath he was not certain he could keep - but he would try to be less irritable from now on. Hardin had come with him at his request, he'd been forgiving of Sydney's short temper despite not knowing the cause. He deserved so much better than this, Sydney thought...</p>
<p>And that thought brought back the few dreams that had come to him during his fitful sleep throughout the night. Again, nothing new, and he was already so distressed as to be left numb by the visions. His cup already overfloweth, so to speak, and he simply couldn't take any more. </p>
<p>If not for one of those visions, he might have gone to the chapel to pray after he had let go of the magic and quietly left Hardin sleeping. Sydney had no way of knowing what was to touch off the events of that vision, what might cause Hardin to come after him, shouting his name. Although he questioned if it were possible to avoid fate in most cases, Sydney had no desire to <em>invite</em> it, and so he returned to the library, and to his book - and realized that after having closed it the night before, he didn't even recall where he had left off.</p>
<p>Sydney turned back to the last scene he could recall reading... and after reading over the first few paragraphs several times, gave up on that as well. If his thoughts would still not focus on the words on the page, he might as well let them go where they may.</p>
<p>In fact, if he was so upset already as to find the dreams not so much more troubling, it might be a good time to think upon them and try to find some additional context, some additional clue... but he didn't recall anything new in the most recent iterations of the two most prominent visions, both perhaps coming more easily given the circumstances and surroundings he now found himself in. One of the future, one of the past... for the vision of his father wounded and reaching out to him had come again as well. That one was possibly more troubling, for he did not know what or where it had been, and had no idea what relevance it might have, that the gods would bring it back to him. It did not even seem possible that it could have happened, for surely the wound was a mortal one...</p>
<p>He was still pondering it some time later when he found Hardin suddenly before him, standing across the desk where he had been sitting and staring at nothing at all, his thoughts in another time and place. "Sydney, what's wrong?" Hardin asked, more firm than worried this time. "And don't tell me nothing is wrong."</p>
<p>Despite his tone, it was clear he was still asking out of concern, and Sydney sighed, remembering his decision earlier to stop snapping at him. "Hardin," he murmured, lowering his head tiredly, "please... just leave me alone."</p>
<p>Hardin paused for a long moment. "All right... if that is what you want," he agreed reluctantly. "But Sydney... if you ever do decide you'd like to talk..."</p>
<p>"I will not," Sydney acknowledged, "but thank you." It was not quite true - when he'd been watching Hardin sleep earlier, he had momentarily had the thought that he almost wished he could have just woken him and explained. Hardin would have listened and almost certainly understood. ...And quite possibly have been willing to stay at his side, or maybe closer. But it was a luxury Sydney did not deserve, and neither could he confide in Hardin about the specific things that troubled him at the moment. Though Hardin was perhaps the most trustworthy confidante he could imagine for one who was not sworn to him, far more than his own wellbeing depended upon it.</p>
<p>He had no concentration, he had no appetite, he had no answers to the questions raised by his dreams, and he had no one to confess to about what it was about the duke's manor that left him so unsettled even without the additional wariness the dreams caused. Despite his earlier observations regarding the thoughts of the servants as they passed by, Sydney opted not to hide himself away in the library all day and instead wandered the quieter, lesser-used halls and corridors. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep and nourishment that caused the servants' occasional reactions to feel muted and less irritating, the Dark unable to use him to the degree it normally did, or perhaps he was getting used to it after a full day. Or perhaps, he supposed, he was simply approaching a breaking point.</p>
<p>It was a relief in the early evening when the Dark stirred, and he <em>knew</em>. He stopped in his tracks at the revelation it had given him, but then quickened his step, having a specific destination in mind at last.</p>
<p>Hardin was still, or perhaps once again, in their suite, lying on the bed but not sleeping when Sydney returned. "The duke and duchess are drawing near," Sydney told him as he sat up. "We should be ready to greet them upon their arrival." He looked over the clothes he'd set out when he woke, debating which appealed at the moment. A choice he could make, though utterly inconsequential, made him feel slightly less helpless. "It is more fortunate than I'd have thought that I did not allow you to buy peasant garb those months ago," he remarked absently to Hardin, who was getting up to look in the trunk where he had stored his own clothes. "When one is in the company of such nobility, one must look suitable, and I'm not sure that any of the Bardorbas' servants would have anything in the proper size."</p>
<p>The carriage was already in sight by the time they finished dressing, Sydney having shrugged off Hardin's attempt to help him lace the cords of his shirt, and suggested Hardin wear that jacket that Sydney very much liked on him. Both of them looking appropriately aristocratic for the occasion, Sydney stepped outside to the balcony and saw exactly what he expected. "The carriage is already within sight. It will not be long now."</p>
<p>Hardin stepped to the railing beside him to look as well. "So then, what is to happen when the duke and duchess arrive?"</p>
<p>"Someone will tell them of our presence, I suppose," Sydney replied. Though he wasn't sure what would come later, the standard rules of propriety applied for the initial greetings. In that sense, it was good that Hardin was himself from a noble family, and knew the behavior that was required. "Then the duke, and perhaps his wife with him, will hold a short audience to greet us and ask us what our business is, and invite us to dine with them tonight. I'm sure you're familiar with such formalities."</p>
<p>"Aye, though I've never met with someone of high rank under such circumstances as these," Hardin acknowledged.</p>
<p>"There is not much difference between this and any other social visit," Sydney assured him, "for the duke and I know each other quite well. No need to worry - I will handle the details."</p>
<p>A fellow servant of the Dark, Duke Bardorba's aura was easily read and unmistakable, though his physical body was hidden from view by the coach's hood, when Sydney looked back towards the carriage making its progress towards the front gates. The duchess... Although she was unfortunately also a familiar presence, something seemed strange. The same as Sydney recalled, yet not <em>quite</em> the same. It might have been his distaste for her causing the dissonance; if not, if it was something significant, surely when they came face to face, he would be able to tell more.</p>
<p>They did not have long to wait, for it was only a few minutes after the carriage had pulled up to the porch, while servants below still were unloading the baggage, that another knocked on the door to the suite. </p>
<p>"Forgive the intrusion, milords," the young man told them, "but unless you have any objections, the duke and duchess would greet you in the sitting room shortly."</p>
<p>Sydney nodded. "That is perfectly acceptable. We have no need for accompaniment," he added, "for I know the way."</p>
<p>With that, the servant left, and Sydney inhaled deeply. Barring whatever seemed unusual about the duchess, this initial audience should go easily enough. He merely needed to appear calm, confident... Looking to Hardin, he had the impression that he saw through it. He did not have to impress Hardin, however, so Sydney turned to go, leading the way to the sitting room. Perhaps, having gotten so much of his frustration and anxiety out of the way before the duke had arrived, he could manage to perform this role well enough and long enough to finish their business quickly.</p>
<p>The duke and duchess were in fact waiting for them - Duke Bardorba seated upon one of the fine leather couches, his wife standing behind at his shoulder, both having removed their cloaks but still in relatively simple travel attire. They knew, as Sydney did, that there was no need to make a great deal of effort for this relatively casual greeting. Sydney had spoken truly to Hardin - they knew one another well, and neither did the duke have to impress him. Their relative positions dictated that Sydney be on his best behavior, however, and he bowed deeply to the ducal couple upon entering, as did Hardin beside him. "'Tis an honor to be once again in your presence, my lord, my lady," he greeted them.</p>
<p>"Well met, Sydney," replied the duke, with a slight, respectful bow of the head. "It has been quite some time since you've come calling - and I'm afraid I do not know your companion."</p>
<p>"Yes, my work has kept me busy." And so much the better, to tell the truth, Sydney thought. "And as for my companion, this is John Hardin."</p>
<p>Though aged, the duke was as sharp of mind and memory as ever. Sydney was not surprised that he clearly recognized at least the family name, from the look he gave Hardin. "A pleasure, John Hardin," the duke greeted him.</p>
<p>From the quick look Hardin gave Sydney, <em>he</em> was surprised that Sydney had given his real name. "I am honored, my lord," he replied with perfect politeness even so.</p>
<p>"So, Sydney..." The duke turned his attention back to him. "What business brings you here after so long?"</p>
<p>"The brethren and I have been through many trials in the years since we last met, my lord." Sydney made a show of bowing his head in proper humility for such a petition. "Even so, we have been able to manage well enough until this past week, when a rather severe tragedy occurred. I was hoping that you might hear the tale, and be moved to assist us in some way, however small."</p>
<p>He was startled into looking up, however, when the duchess gave a haughty sniff in response to his words, the first sound she'd made since they entered the room. Sydney reminded himself that he was here to address the duke. The presence of the duchess was unimportant and unfortunate.</p>
<p>The duke seemed to agree, considering the stern look he shot up at her before responding. "I regret to hear it," he said, as if there had been no interruption. "I am curious to hear what has happened, but we have been traveling this day, and these old bones of mine are crying out for a warm bath and some quiet - shall we speak of the matter after dinner tonight, in private? I trust the two of you shall be joining us for the evening's meal."</p>
<p>They both knew the game that was being played, and were quite good at it. Sydney gave him another, lighter bow. "You honor me with your hospitality in these times. Of course we would be delighted - and of course after dinner would be suitable."</p>
<p>That would have been sufficient formality to set their business in motion, but now that the duke and duchess were present, Sydney had some more personal business to address. Surprisingly, with both of them. "If I may ask, my lord... have you been enjoying good health since we last spoke?"</p>
<p>"Indeed, indeed," the duke replied easily. "A few aches and pains here and there, but nothing unusual for a man of my age - I am not as young as I once was."</p>
<p>That was as expected, though to Sydney it seemed that the man had aged far more quickly than the intervening years would have accounted for. He did not seem to be covering up any falsehood, however, so Sydney's eyes turned to the duchess. "And you, Lady Ellemir?"</p>
<p>This time it was her turn to be startled. Each of them knew how the other felt about them, and under normal circumstances, Sydney would not have addressed her at all, giving only the most necessary acknowledgement of her presence to avoid seeming ill-mannered. But he had felt that there was something strange about her, something that had changed. He needed to focus on her for a moment. Just for a moment...</p>
<p>She recovered her composure quickly, and gave him a rather stiff reply. "I've been well enough, thank you."</p>
<p>"I'm pleased to hear it." ...That had been long enough. The Dark had needed only that moment to seek out and determine what it was that had caused that unusual aspect of her aura. It was fortunate, he thought, that he had waited until this audience was all but concluded, because the revelation made his blood run cold. "Now," he continued with painstaking politeness, turning his eyes back to the duke, "I suppose we shall leave my lord and lady to attend to their business?"</p>
<p>"Yes, thank you," the duke replied. "So then, Sydney - we shall see you at dinner?"</p>
<p>It was the last thing Sydney wanted, which was likely why the duke had asked, but he nodded. "You shall, my lord."</p>
<p>Sydney managed to maintain his calm, well-mannered demeanor long enough for himself and Hardin to leave the sitting room, and walk far enough down the hallway to be out of sight. Then, it was safe to let his fists and his jaw clench, his eyes squeeze shut briefly in frustration. </p>
<p>Hardin, of course, noticed. "Sydney...?"</p>
<p>This was, for a change, something he could tell Hardin about. But not there, in the hallway, where they might be overheard; he just shook his head and continued walking.</p>
<p>Once they were back in their suite, Sydney sank down in one of the chairs in the front room, letting his head sink into his hands in exhausted despair as Hardin closed the door behind them. Sydney could hear him shifting awkwardly, no doubt unwilling to ask after the reception his questions had received since their arrival, but also not sure he should leave Sydney alone. What the Dark had shown him was no secret or prophecy, however, though it had any number of troubling implications with regards to some of them. </p>
<p>After considering how much he could say, Sydney half lifted his head, resting his chin in one hand. "Lady Ellemir is with child."</p>
<p>"What?" Hardin exclaimed. It would seem, from the split second of surprise that lowered his shielding, that he knew of the duke's dismal circumstances. "How fortunate for him," he said after the immediate shock had worn off, "that he should sire a child in his old age. After living nearly his entire life with no heir..."</p>
<p>"I don't believe he knows yet, nor even the duchess herself. You forget, Hardin, that I possess senses much sharper than those of ordinary men and women..." Sharp enough to know too much, and his more ordinary senses filled in what the Dark had not. "The child will be a boy, and I do not envy him," Sydney muttered, rising again to pace back and forth across the room. "Always coddled, always smothered - always stifled! They'll cling so tightly to the boy that he'll never understand the world outside these walls, and his head will be filled with that woman's religious nonsense without even knowing that it is but one faith among many! And the gods forbid he should ever be bright enough to dare <em>question</em> what he is told..."</p>
<p>The anxiety was setting in again, leaving Sydney feeling overly warm and suffocated, and he made for the balcony, flinging the door open. Hardin followed cautiously as Sydney leaned on the railing, glaring out at the courtyards until he had managed to calm himself slightly.  "To a woman such as the duchess, a son is no more than a puppet - a precious, cherub-faced puppet, but a puppet nonetheless," he murmured. "If he does not dance as she wishes him to, she will not only cut his strings, but strangle him with them."</p>
<p>After a pause, Hardin stepped forward to stand beside Sydney. "...Is this a prophecy?"</p>
<p>"Gods, I hope not." The anger was slipping away, leaving only the fear. "I hope not." It was not the knowledge given him by the gods that caused him to speak such things, but his own knowledge of Lady Ellemir, of her zeal and paranoia...</p>
<p>His anxious thoughts came to an abrupt halt at the touch of a gentle, warm hand resting upon his shoulder. He froze as it caressed, ever so lightly. Hardin was well in control of himself, his heart guarded, but Sydney could feel the caution in the slow, light movement of his fingers, traversing the angle of Sydney's shoulder to brush away the tips of his hair, coming to rest at the nape of his neck. It was... distracting. More so when Hardin began to rub gently with his thumb, soothing muscles he hadn't even realized were stiff and sore.</p>
<p>Sydney had no desire to protest, and his lack of objection emboldened Hardin. "Gods, but you're tense," he murmured, and stepped behind Sydney to do the same with both hands. At first his touch remained light, but then the small circular caresses grew deeper, harder. Sydney found himself leaning back into it, tilting his head forward to allow Hardin more access as his hands worked their way upwards, above the collar of his shirt - stroking bare skin, pressing more firmly, roaming back outwards again to knead his shoulders.</p>
<p>Sydney was accustomed to being touched - intimately, reverently. But the way Hardin was touching him now, mindful of the aching of ordinary flesh and bone and muscle, not seeking anything more than to comfort... Sydney inhaled deeply, for it was a different and most welcome kind of intimacy. Though if Hardin's hands felt so good upon his shoulders...</p>
<p>But this was most definitely not the time. He was exhausted, someone would be calling them soon for dinner. "Hardin," he said, and it came out a bit breathless.</p>
<p>Hardin's hands paused. "Yes?"</p>
<p>"Stop."</p>
<p>Possibly he should have found a less blunt way to say it, because Hardin began trying to apologize as quickly as he removed his hands. "I'm sorry... I just..."</p>
<p>"It's all right."</p>
<p>It would have been very nice - to put it mildly - to let Hardin continue. To have the needs of his body met... in whatever sense, depending on what it might have led to. But he did not dare to acknowledge weakness or need now. Not now. He needed to stay strong, at least through dinner. If that was too much, he could likely excuse himself by expressing concern for the duke's wellbeing after having only just returned home - surely he would want to rest in the comfort of his own bed, and the duke would be too polite to call him on it.</p>
<p>Sydney just had to make it through dinner. That was what he told himself. But even Hardin's steadfast presence, leaning upon his elbows on the railing at Sydney's side, did not keep the tension at bay.</p>
<p>----- </p>
<p>In his memory, spending dinner with the duchess had been excruciating. Sydney had hoped, sincerely, that it was just exaggerated memory, for certainly it could not have been so terrible. But no, it was just as bad, or maybe his memory had instead faded, for it may have been even worse.</p>
<p>To be fair, this time it was not entirely her fault. Sydney had already been out of sorts just from being within the duke's manor again before the two of them had returned. And then, too, there was the Dark at play... Upon some thought, it had been <em>exceptionally</em> eager to inform him that Lady Ellemir was carrying a child - and specifically a male child - when it was often not terribly interested in such matters. It dealt in secrets, yes, and in carnal pleasures, some of which might produce a child - but often it lost interest afterward, and it preferred to tease secrets rather than tell them outright. The fact that it had been so unambiguous and immediate was unusual.</p>
<p>As was the fact that it kept reminding him. It was a constant twitching in the back of his mind, impossible to ignore, like an itch that demanded to be scratched. It was something important. And yes, Sydney understood that it was significant for a number of reasons, not the least that the Bardorba lineage would presumably continue for at least one more generation. Like any new life, it should have been an occasion for joy. But the Dark seemed to be particularly gleeful, and that made him highly suspicious. </p>
<p>He also seemed to be unable to shake his uneasiness with the vision he'd seen of the past, of himself and his father - that, at least, was a normal thing for the Dark to bring up, to tease and taunt with the unknown. It had been nagging at him for some reason even before he and Hardin had been called to dinner, to make matters worse. </p>
<p>By the time they'd entered the dining hall, Sydney already felt rattled and nervous; it was all he could do to sit still, keep himself from trembling. Over and over he repeated it within his mind - he was no longer a helpless, frightened child, but something beyond even a normal man. He could control the Dark, he could speak with the gods, he was the chosen of Müllenkamp. He would endure. He <em>would</em> endure. He filled his plate with the food prepared by the duke's servants, and every now and then, he made himself take a bite.</p>
<p>The duke, for his part, was attempting to make it less tense. Sydney managed to ask about the trip he had just returned from, and he was quite forthcoming - both business and pleasure in a sense, a holiday with a few other members of the Parliament and their spouses. On the surface, no more than a casual time of fellowship among peers, but of course when one was dealing with Parliament, there had been ulterior motives. Certain factions sought his support, desiring to turn him to their pet causes, but of course he was aware from the outset... Sydney could not bring himself to care at the moment. He was only able to listen as much as necessary to recognize when the duke asked his opinion, and only capable of talking as much as necessary to give the briefest possible reply, after which the conversation lapsed awkwardly.</p>
<p>The duchess was more than willing to step in from time to time, however, relating anecdotes and gossip from the trip that Sydney cared about even less. And each time her voice rose, reminding him of her presence, the Dark moved again, refusing to let his mind settle on anything other than the child that would come, the vision he had seen. The child was to be expected, if unusual. But why the vision of himself and his father? What significance did it hold, that it should return now?</p>
<p>The thoughts turned over and over in his mind, and his stomach was turning as well. He was unable to follow the conversation at all - the only other thoughts he could manage were to wonder just how impolite it would be to excuse himself. At last he did mumble an apology and excuse himself, for under the circumstances he was certain it would be far more impolite to remain at the table than to leave.</p>
<p>Dizzy and distracted as he was, Sydney managed to remember where there was a door to one of the minor courtyards down one of the nearby hallways. Stumbling outside, he found no one was present at the moment, and thanked the gods for that small mercy. Away from the critical eyes of the duchess, and everyone else for that matter, he could let his guard slip - he could pace, he could gasp in deep breaths of the cool, fresh air and hope it would help to calm him, ideally fast enough that he might return to the dining hall without his absence seeming unnaturally long.</p>
<p>That seemed more and more unlikely, however. Given that he had relinquished his careful self-control, recognizing that he faced the prospect of losing his composure involuntarily, his body would do as it wished, which was precisely why he had rushed outside; his ragged breathing only encouraged his uneasy stomach to heave, and he braced himself, leaning against the wall of the courtyard as it brought up what little he'd managed to choke down. Once he had caught his breath again, he breathed a long, shaky sigh. At least it could not get much worse than that... could it?</p>
<p>His head still spinning, he managed to lower himself to the ground, sitting back against the wall and closing his eyes as he tried to collect himself. To focus on... anything. Anything at all. Ritual prayers were the first thing that came to mind, and absently he began mouthing the words to an ancient meditation in search of self-control. The gods would hear him, they had always heard him. Even in this accursed place. Gradually, with repetitions of the familiar words, his breathing slowed, his head cleared.</p>
<p>It lasted only until he considered whether or not he felt ready to go back inside, at which point he began shaking again. He had no reason to dread the sight of the duchess, for she was no threat to him. He had plenty of time to be alone at a later time and ponder the meanings of what the Dark had shown him. It was all the worse because he knew it was absurd.</p>
<p>This was what he had been trying to explain to Hardin, what had come upon him during that last night in Leá Monde. At least then he could have definitively pointed to what had set it off, but this time? There was no specific trigger that he could put a name to - aside, perhaps, from simply being there, within the walls of the Bardorba family residence once again.</p>
<p>But now he had calmed somewhat, or at least worn himself out. He was expected within. He drew another long, shaky breath and pushed himself to his feet. Yes, he would suggest that his discussion with the duke take place on the morrow. If the duke did not suggest it first, seeing as he was rather perceptive.</p>
<p>When he returned to the dining hall, perhaps he should not have been surprised that in his absence, Hardin seemed to be getting on well enough with the duke as a conversational partner. The two of them were discussing nothing of real importance, it seemed, merely the climate in their respective homelands, but as there was no consequence to such talk, thus there was no danger. As the duke was speaking, Hardin shot a curious glance in Sydney's direction for a moment, and Sydney addressed him silently, sipping carefully from his wineglass. <i>Before you ask, yes - I am fine. Go on about your conversation.</i> He was relieved when Hardin didn't even blink, and simply responded to the duke's question as if nothing were unusual- he had known it wouldn't do to have Hardin shooting worried glances at him for the rest of the evening, and seemingly so did Hardin.</p>
<p>Whether it was because they had a few interests in common, or both Hardin and the duke were aware of Sydney's discomfort and were willing to cover for it, the two of them went on about their casual and perfectly polite conversation as the topic turned to other matters. For all that the night before he'd wished he hadn't brought Hardin, Sydney was at the moment very glad he had. Given his upbringing and experience, Hardin was perfectly suited for such an affair. Which caused his thoughts to turn back to the visions he had seen; if Hardin could manage the social aspect of the role in addition to his strength in the Dark, perhaps it was a sign that he <em>was</em> the man Sydney had seen in his dreams?</p>
<p>Deep within him, the Dark was dancing, and Sydney did not know why. It seemed that he was close to <em>some</em> truth, but he couldn't be sure what, and he dared not think about it at the moment, while mind and body were unstable and he still remained seated at the duke's dining table.</p>
<p>Taking occasional cautious sips of his wine, Sydney only half-listened to the ongoing conversation between Hardin and the duke - if he didn't think too much upon it, the sound of their voices in idle polite conversation was almost calming. The topic had turned to something a bit personal to Hardin, but the duke was tactful in his handling of the subject, and Hardin graceful in his responses. "I've heard that your superiors thought it a great loss when you left the PeaceGuard," the duke remarked. "They say you had a natural aptitude for swordplay."</p>
<p>"I'm flattered, my lord," Hardin said, with appropriate humility, "but I would not say that I had any great aptitude, to be honest. I was simply diligent with my training."</p>
<p>"That is perhaps more admirable. I would say that it is a greater feat to become talented at some skill through determination, as opposed to simply being born with that talent."</p>
<p>Sydney was jarred out of his relatively calm state when the duchess spoke up again - she'd been silent since he'd returned, and Sydney hadn't thought to question it. "Have you remained well-practiced in your swordsmanship?" she inquired of Hardin.</p>
<p>"I spent quite some time away from the sword in the past few years," Hardin answered. "After having picked it up again recently, though, it seems as though my sword-arm has forgotten little of what it once knew."</p>
<p>"It seems you have many options, then," the duchess suggested. The sound of her voice had left Sydney on edge again already, the Dark hovering about to point out... something... just beyond the edge of his comprehension. It was his own rage that nearly boiled over when he realized why she had asked. "Travelers and merchants are always picking up guards to protect them on their journeys, as many bandits and rogues roam free," she observed. "You might put your skill to good use once again."</p>
<p>The implication obviously did not escape Hardin either. "The suggestion is appreciated, my lady," he replied with the same grace he had shown in his responses to the duke, "but for the time being I am content to remain as I am. Travelers and merchants are not the only ones who need protection in these troubled times."</p>
<p>Even with the clever rebuke in Hardin's reply, Sydney had reached the breaking point he had feared he was approaching all day. On top of everything else, she would have taken <em>Hardin</em> from him as well? Regardless of how rude it may have been, Sydney stood again and stalked out of the dining hall, before he said or did anything more rude.</p>
<p>Although he might have hoped Hardin would have better sense, he was not terribly surprised to hear footsteps in the corridor behind him only moments later, quickening to catch up. "Sydney, are you all right?"</p>
<p>Sydney didn't slow one bit. He needed to leave that room and that woman and all the visions behind him. "I am fine, Hardin, I just..." It was absurd to even pretend that was the truth. For once he was at a complete loss for words, and merely threw his hands up in a gesture of frustration.</p>
<p>"What is this?" Hardin asked again, his concern evident. "I know you were ill earlier, but this is the second time tonight you've simply walked out on the duke and duchess. Rather impolite..."</p>
<p>"Yes, tell them that. Tell them that I am ill, and I will speak with Duke Bardorba tomorrow, if it suits him." This time Sydney did not feel particularly ill, at least not in the same way. In fact, he felt very little at all, other than desperation to escape. He needed to get back to the suite, to his bed, to solitude...</p>
<p>"Sydney..." The hand Hardin rested on his back was immediately and forcefully swatted away. "...All right then. Whatever you wish," Hardin agreed warily, and his footsteps halted as Sydney continued on, leaving him behind.</p>
<p>It was fortunate that Sydney knew the manor well, for everything seemed distant and unreal as he made his way back to their suite, his feet following the route without his having to think about it. The startled reactions from the staff as they spotted him and cleared out of his way... they registered, but only barely. It was not that his thoughts were elsewhere, exactly - it was more that he himself was not all there. Just enough to recognize that something - everything - was wrong, including himself, and he was on the verge of breaking down in some manner, and he was so numb he couldn't even be sure how.</p>
<p>Slamming the door to his rooms behind him more out of haste than anger, Sydney abruptly stilled a few steps inside. There - he was alone now. He was safe, and whatever happened next was of no consequence, no matter how hard he was suddenly trembling. </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p>
  <i>Sydney! Talk to me!</i>
</p>
<p>The next thing Sydney was conscious of, dimly, was Hardin's voice. The dream again? No - it wasn't Hardin's voice, and yet it was; Hardin was calling to him from within his heart, and he was terrified.</p>
<p>...Hardin was also kneeling right in front of him, at the side of the bed. At some point, Sydney must have half undressed and lay down, but he remembered none of it. Hardin was looking him in the eye, with the barriers around his mind thrown wide open, allowing Sydney access to all the fear and desperation he felt over finding him unresponsive. Over <em>him</em>. Calling out to him, begging for any answer, in any manner it might come.</p>
<p>Sydney would have told him not to worry, that everything was fine. It would have been a lie, but he would have, if he could have forced his mouth to move. Yet he could not.</p>
<p>But Hardin had let down his mental shielding intentionally, so Sydney could hear him and feel him... and after a pause that might have lasted moments or hours, Sydney did likewise, permitting the Dark to let Hardin feel him as well.</p>
<p>Sydney had fallen so deep into his melancholy that he did not know what he felt, but it must have been terrible, for Hardin's face fell immediately. "Gods... Sydney..." he said, quiet and nearly broken. A sense of relief, but overshadowed by worry, dismay... the need to reach out and offer comfort somehow, and Sydney closed his eyes as Hardin's fingers gently stroked his cheek. Something, somewhere, far away, was nagging at him but he did not recall, nor did he particularly care...</p>
<p>And besides, the next thing he knew, the mattress was shifting beneath him as Hardin sat down, lifting Sydney so that he could settle behind him, to wrap his arms around him and hold him close. Likewise, through the mental rapport they shared, Sydney felt so much warmth, steadfast and tender. It was impossible to deny what it was that Hardin felt, and... in his current weakness, it was impossible for Sydney to deny that he felt much the same. Perhaps fortunately, it was also impossible for him to think much about it; he simply rested there, his head against Hardin's shoulder, and drank it in as if it could banish all the darkness and emptiness.</p>
<p>And it might have, if he could have remained there forever. But eventually, it healed him enough that he was more conscious of his surroundings and himself; his left arm was bent at an odd angle, the steel pressing into his hip, and he dared to disturb the sanctity of the moment by shifting slightly, moving it somewhere less awkward. Hardin's firm embrace loosened momentarily to let Sydney move, then he glanced down, to see Sydney looking up to the lines and angles of his face, edged by the faint, warm light of the hearth through the archway behind them. Again Sydney thought something was there that he couldn't quite make out... but he suspected he didn't want to think about it. Besides, he was looking at Hardin.</p>
<p>And Hardin, seeing him move of his own volition, was looking down at him, confused and troubled. Sydney opened his mouth, but it still took a moment before his voice decided to cooperate.</p>
<p>"I hate this place, Hardin," he breathed faintly. "I hate it."</p>
<p>"Why?" Hardin asked softly. "What happened here?"</p>
<p>"...It's complicated." Or perhaps very simple, Sydney thought with a faint, ironic smile. Sometimes the two were hard to tell apart, where the gods and prophets and the Dark were involved. Either way, he could not tell Hardin. "The duke and I... we have a long history. The duchess as well."</p>
<p>They still shared the mental rapport, and Hardin actually flinched at the mention of her, likely not of his own accord. "Say the word and we will leave," he stated. "Even if I must carry you in my arms."</p>
<p>A very pleasant thought, when he was so comfortable in Hardin's arms, but Sydney shook his head slightly. "My flock is in danger, and I will not leave them to be preyed upon. The duke almost certainly will assist us, if I explain the matter to him."</p>
<p>"In this condition, Sydney?"</p>
<p>"It passes. It always does." And that was the truth, even when he had not had Hardin here to bring him back to himself. No matter how terrible these fits of his might be, eventually they wore themselves out, and already he felt much improved. "I thank you for the kindness, Hardin," he whispered, "but it is late. Go to your bed - I will be better in the morning, I'm sure."</p>
<p>As Sydney had expected, Hardin hesitated. But instead of reluctantly obeying or questioning, instead he let go with only one arm, continuing to cradle Sydney against his shoulder with the other as he leaned down and started to remove his boots.</p>
<p>Hardin had felt his reluctance through the rapport, Sydney realized, and severed it abruptly. "Hardin..."</p>
<p>"It's all right," Hardin told him, and laid him back upon the pillow, freeing up his own arms so he could take off the jacket he still wore. "I'm not afraid anymore, not of you nor I. ...Nor you <em>and</em> I."</p>
<p>And that was the truth. Now that Sydney was capable of thinking more clearly, he could put a word to what he'd felt as Hardin was holding him. And... what he'd quite possibly felt.</p>
<p>"Besides," Hardin added, "I mean only to hold you - no more. Do you deny that it would make your night pass easier?"</p>
<p>He couldn't, since Hardin had already felt his reaction. "No, but..." There were other reasons, and he sighed quietly, sitting up halfway to address Hardin more directly. "It is too dangerous here. You know that the duchess frowns on... such things. I must speak to the duke, but if she were to look in on us, or one of her loyal servants - even as we were moments ago - she would doubtless throw us out of-"</p>
<p>He was forced to stop speaking suddenly by Hardin's lips pressing firmly against his. Sydney looked up in surprise as Hardin straightened, his expression unexpectedly determined. "To hell with the damn duchess."</p>
<p>Sydney wasn't sure which surprised him more - the kiss, or... He couldn't help himself, and in spite of everything, his shoulders began to shake with laughter he was not quite strong enough to voice aloud. Hardin gave him a puzzled look. "What...?" </p>
<p>"If you only knew," Sydney managed, between silent bursts of laughter, "how many times I have wanted to express that exact sentiment. And to think, I thought you were too dull and well-mannered to express it in such a precisely fitting way..." After being so impeccably polite during dinner...</p>
<p>Hardin just shook his head, with a sigh that was half amused, half exasperated, and tossed his jacket over to his own bed before sitting down again on Sydney's. "This really is too dangerous, you know," Sydney reminded him, even as he moved over to make room, and Hardin pulled back his blankets.</p>
<p>"And I could not care less," Hardin stated.</p>
<p>Lying down at Sydney's side, he stretched out an arm to cradle Sydney's head. After a little bit of shifting around, puzzling out just how to arrange arms and legs, they fell still with Sydney's head upon Hardin's shoulder, his back against Hardin's chest, Hardin's arm across his waist. Sydney felt the remaining anxiety draining away, leaving him feeling... not so much more like himself, he thought. Feeling more vulnerable than he ever felt ordinarily, but also somehow safer, and in spite of his exhaustion, able to think more clearly than he had since they had arrived.</p>
<p>Which did not mean that he <em>should</em> think, but it was difficult for Sydney to stop, particularly when something had been dancing at the edges of his comprehension all evening. The unborn son of the duke and duchess, the visions he had seen... His mind seemed more willing to consider these things, and why the Dark seemed to delight in connecting the two, when Hardin's arm lay across him, comforting and protective, his own even breathing helping to keep Sydney's in a healthy rhythm.</p>
<p>The Dark did not do things such as this when it was not important. Now that he could do so without being overwhelmed, Sydney thought back to what it seemed to have been teasing. The vision of himself and his father, wounded deeply in some past circumstance he could not recall... a son to be born to Duke Bardorba...</p>
<p>It was so simple, yet so startling that Sydney caught his breath when it occurred to him. What if the small child in his vision - the child he had assumed was him, for he seemed to be seeing through the child's eyes - was not him? What if... it was a child who had not yet been born? When had that vision appeared - might it line up with when the child had been conceived?</p>
<p>At his back, Hardin drowsily shifted at the sudden movement, slight as it was - brushing his fingers across Sydney's arm beneath the blankets as if to reassure. The remarkable thing was that it <em>worked</em>.</p>
<p>And why shouldn't it, Sydney thought? When Hardin had held him earlier, Sydney had recognized it for what it was. He'd considered it before, refused to acknowledge it. The desire to comfort could have been explained as Hardin's nature or his habitual behavior, but the fear of losing Sydney and the dismay at finding him in such a state? Not only was it specific to him, personally, but the particular depth and combination of emotions was not something Sydney thought he had ever experienced before. From the context of others who had, it seemed there could be no mistake. </p>
<p>Beyond the physical attraction that had been obvious nearly from the start, Hardin loved him. Not in the way Sydney's followers loved him, not as the gods loved the whole of their creation, but Hardin loved him as mankind loved, in the manner which centuries upon centuries of bards and poets had celebrated. Hardin was <em>in</em> love with him.</p>
<p>That was... inconvenient, to put it lightly. But even more inconvenient, along with any of the other words he might have used, was Sydney's acknowledgement that ... he thought that he might feel the same for Hardin.</p>
<p>It couldn't happen. Not to someone in his position. He loved all the brethren, as a whole and as individuals whom he'd come to know, each a precious and unique creation of the gods he served. So if he found a strange delight in Hardin's rare smiles, if he found himself charmed by the quick wit and dry humor in their conversations, if Hardin's steady presence was calming to him - these things were not unusual. </p>
<p>The difference was that when Sydney was at his most ungodly, Hardin saw him, accepted him, and managed to be just what Sydney needed, even when Sydney himself tried to turn him away. Sydney had had the thought before that if he ever gave in and lay with Hardin, he would never be able to leave. Here he was, lying in Hardin's arms, because Hardin <em>already</em> was incapable of leaving him... and Sydney honestly did not want him to.</p>
<p>And at least for this night, Sydney didn't want to worry about how problematic it could become. He'd been feeling too terrible for too long, and the evening had been even more miserable than he'd expected. Self-indulgent though it might have been, all he wanted to do was lie there beside Hardin, feeling his breaths deepen as he drifted off into sleep. Let his mind linger on how it had felt when it had connected with Hardin's, and Hardin had reached out to caress his cheek...</p>
<p>Sydney froze, his half-closed eyes flying open again. He'd become distracted and forgotten what he'd been thinking about originally, but now the missing piece had fallen into place.</p>
<p>If the child he had been in the vision was not him, but the child who was to be born to the duke and duchess, it was not a vision of the past, but a vision of the future.</p>
<p>If it was a vision of the future, the man who had been mortally wounded could not have been his father in more youthful days. </p>
<p>That had been only an assumption from the beginning, based on another assumption that the child was truly him. Much like the man who was seemingly to become his successor, Sydney had a sense of the man's soul, and the barest sense of physical appearance - like the washes of flat color laid down by a painter before the details and shading, enough to tell which shape in an unfinished portrait was the mother or the child, but little more. The man's soul was weary and kind, looking upon the child with fond relief and profound regret, which had seemed like it might have been appropriate between his father and himself. What he'd been able to make of the physical appearance lined up as well with what he recalled from his youth - a short beard over a square jaw, the beginnings of lines in the face etched from sorrow rather than age, more apparent in the unusual angle of the dim light behind him...</p>
<p>Much as only minutes ago, when he had looked up to see Hardin's face, backlit by the hearth in the front room.</p>
<p>Much as something had seemed to be hovering just at the edges of his memory when Hardin had reached out to touch his face.</p>
<p>He could have attributed it to his current condition - he'd been close enough to madness when Hardin found him - but for the Dark's confirmation, the glee that he had solved the riddle they had set before him.</p>
<p>Behind him, Hardin stirred again. "Sydney...?" he mumbled, still half asleep, drowsy enough for his heart to betray his immediate concern over the fact that Sydney was trembling.</p>
<p>"John... I..."</p>
<p>Sydney didn't realize what he had said until he felt the spark of bewildered wonder Hardin felt at being addressed with the intimacy of his seldom-used first name. The way his heart sung, as if Sydney had performed a miracle before him. </p>
<p>"...I'm sorry." Sydney whispered.</p>
<p>"For what?" came Hardin's quiet response.</p>
<p>There were so many things he had done wrong. So many things Hardin could have demanded an apology for, even not knowing what Sydney had just realized... and he asked why. Sydney found himself trembling even harder.</p>
<p>When no answer was forthcoming, Hardin merely tugged him a bit closer, pressing a kiss against the top of Sydney's head before settling again to hold him more tightly.</p>
<p>Hardin was in love with him. He would not leave. And therefore, John Hardin was going to die.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sydney was comfortable. That much he knew, though only barely awake. A soft bed with warm blankets, lying as well in someone's strong embrace. He felt somehow as if he had awoken from some nightmare, though none of the usual visions had troubled him - and yet he was reluctant to open his eyes, or even to move, lest he spoil it. He might just stay there, just as he was. Admittedly, he had certain duties to attend to, and there were people depending on his guidance... but they could wait a bit longer, could they not?</p><p>But no, he couldn't stay in bed wrapped in his lover's arms forever, he acknowledged with a yawn, and opened his eyes - to find that he was not in the arms of a lover, but of John Hardin. Hardin's eyes were very close to his own, and unclouded by sleep, as if Hardin had been awake for some time, and simply watching him. That was not unheard of in Hardin's case, of course, and Sydney smiled drowsily. "Good morning, Hardin."</p><p>Hardin's lips turned up slightly, the hint of an answering smile. "Are you feeling better now?"</p><p>For only an instant, Sydney was puzzled by the question. Then, coming more fully awake, he recognized the familiar walls and the curtains at the window beyond Hardin,  and it all came rushing back. Where he was, why Hardin was in his bed... the very disturbing epiphany he'd had, the feelings of dread and panic. But after his breakdown the previous night, some of these feelings had been vented, and they were no longer so overwhelming. In spite of everything, Sydney spoke honestly when he replied. "Much."</p><p>"That's good," Hardin said quietly, as Sydney shifted slightly, moving his arms to a more comfortable posture between the two of them, for they were lying very closely together.</p><p>...Very closely together, so close Sydney could feel the warmth of Hardin's breath as the hand that had been resting at Sydney's waist rose to caress his cheek lightly instead. Looking into each other's eyes, in a soft, warm bed. Unfortunately, with both of them mostly still in their clothes from the previous night. </p><p>These things did not seem to have escaped Hardin's attention either, and the hungry look in Hardin's eyes was echoed in his unguarded heart. <i>...I want him. </i>Gods<i>, but I want him. ...I may not even know exactly what I would do with him,</i> Hardin's heart admitted with a measure of self-consciousness, <i>but I know that I want him.</i></p><p>Sydney's acknowledgement the night before about Hardin's attraction being far more than merely physical had by no means diminished the strength of that aspect. In spite of his concerns about where they were, and who might be nearby to listen or enter unexpectedly, Sydney was very tempted to teach Hardin about a few of the things two men might do together.</p><p>It was not wise under the circumstances, however, and instead he rolled onto his back with an amused but exasperated sigh, breaking the eye contact and putting a bit of distance between their bodies beneath the sheets. "Why is it you can never get these urges at an <em>appropriate</em> time and place?"</p><p>This time, Hardin did not become self-conscious, but actually smiled, leaning on his elbow so that he could look down at Sydney's face again. "Someday, I suppose I will."</p><p>"And then what will you do?" Sydney inquired with a teasing smile.</p><p>Despite his admitted ignorance of the subject, Hardin's reply was immediate. "Whatever my heart tells me."</p><p>...Somehow Sydney found Hardin's answer to be even more arousing than if he'd been able to give a specific, detailed description of what he wanted. </p><p>Disregarding his concerns for the moment, Sydney took hold of Hardin's shoulder, pushing him down onto his back and rolling atop him. Their legs intertwined, tangling in the sheets, and Sydney gazed down at Hardin beneath him, looking back at him with some surprise, but mostly anticipation. The anticipation was mutual; Sydney very, very badly wanted to find out what Hardin's heart might suggest, for many delightful possibilities already had come to his own.</p><p>Instead, Hardin's expression turned thoughtful, and when he spoke, it was somewhat wary. "...This has happened before, hasn't it?"</p><p>An interesting prospect. Though the position they now found themselves in was not terribly unique for Sydney, it seemed that Hardin had not had so many lovers - or perhaps not lovers that were so assertive. And something about this had been enough to make Hardin ask. "Perhaps it has," Sydney acknowledged. If so, it changed nothing about the fact that here and now, he was on top of Hardin in a comfortable bed, and Hardin was staring up at him with a hazy, hopeful look in his eyes.</p><p>...It was so <em>incredibly</em> tempting. But just as Sydney had said, despite the present inviting circumstances, this was not the time and place, given how many outside factors were at play. </p><p>Even so, he lingered a little longer, just in case. Finally, when it became clear Hardin was intending only to wait and see, not take action himself, Sydney gave him a mischievous smile. "I believe I'll go take a bath before I speak with the duke," he said simply, kicking his legs free of the sheets so he could roll off the top of Hardin to the other side of the bed. </p><p>Hardin's eyes followed him steadily as he stood and casually stretched. "...Damn you," he muttered, without any malice whatsoever, and Sydney grinned as he headed for the baths. </p><p>It was not so comfortable as the bath he'd had upon arrival, given that he had not called the servants to prepare, but even with tepid water, it was relaxing and refreshing for Sydney to submerge himself. The quiet privacy gave him room to think as well... and on second thought, that was not something he looked forward to. Instead, he lay back in the water, closing his eyes and offering up prayers to the gods for strength, calm, and wisdom through his discussions with the duke. <i>May the words I speak be those You would speak on behalf of Your children. May the duke's heart listen for Your instructions, and act according to Your will, whether it aligns with my own or not.</i> Anything else could wait, yet it was difficult to remember that, and so he could not refrain from one final plea. <i>...Please, in Your mercy... I know that Hardin's fate is not the most pressing matter at the moment; help me to find peace until such a time as I may consider it further.</i></p><p>There was a measure of logic to it that might help as well, Sydney realized as he still lay there, ruminating on the things his discussion with the duke might entail. If the duke's son had not even been born yet - if the duchess did not yet know she was with child, in fact - and was a child rather than an infant in Sydney's prophecy, then they had time. They had a few years, at least. He had time to determine whether...</p><p>Sydney sat up, shaking the water from his hair and reaching for a towel. They had time, and that knowledge gave him peace, and he would not think upon it any more for now. He murmured a silent prayer of gratitude and rose to prepare for the day ahead, as opposed to days that as of yet remained in the distance.</p><p>When he returned to the front room, he paused for a moment, taking in a scene that seemed oddly... idyllic. In his absence, Hardin had opened the doors to the balcony, letting in fresh air and sunlight - actual sunlight, a rarity in the Graylands - and now had one of the kitchen servants' trays in hand, from which he was setting out their breakfast on the small table. "Feeling up to eating something?" </p><p>The light from the open balcony doors streamed in and illuminated him standing there barefoot, his shirt loosed and rumpled from sleeping in it, and he looked up from his task to Sydney with a faintly hopeful look in his eyes. In the moment, everything seemed nearly perfect, even in this place that Sydney so hated, even after such a terrible revelation - and he could attribute it to Hardin being... Hardin, just as he was naturally. He might have offered more gratitude to the gods for their providence, and meant only Hardin's presence, Sydney thought as he nodded. "A little something, perhaps," he agreed, and his reward was a subtle smile of relief.</p><p>He smiled as well as he seated himself and looked over what had been sent to their rooms. "Ah, Maeta..." he murmured fondly. "She knows exactly what will tempt me to eat when this has come over me."</p><p>"The cook?" Hardin asked, as he also sat down across from Sydney. "I spoke to her briefly, she seemed quite kind."</p><p>"Yes, she is," Sydney agreed, reaching for the platter which held the sweetbread - spiced apple, he thought. It actually smelled appetizing, reminding him that he had barely eaten for two days. "Wise, also - in matters of the spirit as well as matters of the kitchen. Maeta is one of the few in this place who have ever made me feel that I am welcome." Even if it did smell delicious, Sydney broke off only a small bit first, partaking cautiously; he did not want to get ahead of himself and end up as miserable as he had been during dinner the previous night. All the more so if it further delayed his speaking to the duke, and they were forced to stay longer.</p><p>Hardin was pretending that he wasn't watching Sydney with barely veiled concern, and failing. "You did not tell me last night..." he began. "Why does this place bother you so? Why would you have come here, if it causes you such distress?"</p><p>"As for why it bothers me, simply think about how we have been treated since our arrival," Sydney replied. "And as for why I come here... I did tell you last night that it was a long story."</p><p>"We have plenty of time," Hardin observed, "so I suppose you simply do not want to tell me this long story."</p><p>It seemed he was learning. Sydney lowered his eyes to the metal blades that served as his fingers, breaking off another small bite of the dark bread, since the first had gone down well enough. "You suppose right."</p><p>From there, they both fell silent, but it was a comfortable silence, the same as the two of them sitting beside a small fire after a night of swift travel, though physically more comfortable. Hardin deserved a place such as this, Sydney thought idly - if not for the misfortunes that had befallen his family, he should have inherited his father's holdings and had a fine manor of his own, if not so ancient and exquisite as the Bardorbas'. In another life, he and Hardin might have met as two young lords, introduced for some tedious social occasion or a part of someone's political gamesmanship. He wondered if they would have gotten on so well as they had, had they met within the trappings of aristocratic propriety rather than as the leader of a band of heretics with a generous bounty on his head, chancing to hide in the same cave as a fugitive criminal. </p><p><i>In another life,</i> he thought to himself with a wry smile. Müllenkamp had called Hardin <i>palidas</i>. Perhaps in another life, they had.</p><p>Upon finishing his bread, Sydney momentarily considered having some more, and opted against it. He did not know how the meeting with the duke might go; if it turned upsetting, or the duchess sought to involve herself, he would likely regret even the one small piece he had eaten.</p><p>Hardin had only eaten a portion of what was on his plate when Sydney stood. "I should dress now. By this hour, surely the duke has finished his own breakfast, and I doubt he has anything important planned for the morning after returning from a holiday." In fact, Sydney just had recalled that he had asked Hardin to pass along the suggestion. "He did say that meeting with him today would be acceptable?"</p><p>"He did," Hardin agreed.</p><p>"Excellent, thank you."</p><p>Turning towards the bedroom, Sydney heard the clink behind him as Hardin set down his tableware, the quiet sound of a chair being pushed back. "If I can be of any assistance...?"</p><p>"It isn't necessary," Sydney told him. "Go ahead and finish your breakfast - I can manage it on my own."</p><p>Again Sydney had his options of what he might wear, a handful of shirts in acceptable cuts and fabrics. The afternoon before, he had chosen a light color, neutral and harmless, for the requisite social preliminaries where the duchess would be present. This day, however, his eyes immediately went to the black; not that the duke would forget who he was or in whose name he came, but any small psychological advantage was welcome. To that end, he did not lace the shirt all the way to the top, turning the fine attire slightly more casual. The duke may have outranked him politically, but the gods they served cared nothing for titles bestowed by man. </p><p>Even so, he absently tugged at his collar to make certain it was straight, took a deep breath, and set his jaw. He was far more prepared for this than he had been the night before, and far more confident that he could manage it, but he was still not looking forward to it.</p><p>When he returned to the front room, Hardin looked up from the table where he was still sitting, and his face held a small, slightly concerned frown. Recognizing the look, Sydney lifted his chin a bit higher and met his eyes firmly. Fortunately for both of them, Hardin said nothing, just nodded, and Sydney departed their suite in silence.</p><p>At this hour, Sydney was not initially sure where he might find Duke Bardorba, though he was not difficult to find for someone with Sydney's abilities. It seemed the duke was prepared for the meeting and aware of his imminent arrival, for certainly he had no business to attend to in the large, seldom-used meeting hall on the Bardorbas' property. Indeed, when Sydney arrived, the duke was merely meandering about at the head of the room; he would have said pacing but for the duke's advanced age slowing him, causing him to reach out to the grand tables for a bit of additional support. </p><p>Sydney began with a bow, not quite so deep as upon their first audience, when the duke turned and spotted him. "My lord," he greeted him, raising his voice for the distance between them. "A rather excessive location for an audience with one lone man, is it not?"</p><p>The duke smiled wryly from across the room. Large as it was, his voice carried well. "I had the thought that we would both prefer the privacy. And also that you might welcome the lack of distraction."</p><p><i>Touché</i>, Sydney thought. It might have appeared a kindness, but just as much, it might have been a reminder that he <em>knew</em>. Like himself, the duke would no doubt take any advantage he might find.</p><p>"I trust your health is improved this morning?" the duke inquired. "Your friend Hardin said you were ill - I had hoped that you had managed to put that old affliction behind you."</p><p>"It does not come upon me so often, nor so suddenly, as it once did. Only rarely since last we spoke, in fact."</p><p>"Sydney..." The duke hesitated. "Perhaps we could dispense with the formality."</p><p>"Or perhaps not," Sydney replied easily. "My lord." </p><p>The duke nodded slightly. "...Or perhaps not."</p><p>"You do realize," Sydney continued, his footsteps echoing through the chamber as he strode down the aisle at the center of the hall, "that I come to you not on my own behalf, nor as a son of any of the noble houses of Valendia, but as high priest and chosen of Müllenkamp. Just as Alexei came to you in years past, and..." Sydney paused. "I am not aware of whether or not you may have held audience with his successor, Johann."</p><p>"I did not," the duke confirmed.</p><p>Sydney was not surprised, and it was one thing on a long list that he did not care to discuss with the duke. "It matters not - as I have said, I am at present the chosen of Müllenkamp," he said, more quietly now that he and the duke were only a few paces apart. "And her children are being hunted."</p><p>Again the duke nodded slightly, slowly. "Batistum has had the king's ear, and fewer and fewer are capable of drawing His Majesty away from his zealotry. His Majesty's mind grows feeble, but he has refused to relinquish his power to the prince - and if he did, it might be worse for the cause of religious freedom in Valendia, for the prince has fallen in line with the cardinal's agenda as well. His mind is whole, but poisoned with their bigotry. I have been able to distract, but not to dissuade."</p><p>None of this was news to Sydney, for he kept his eyes and ears open - and his ears heard more than most even when no one was speaking. Even so, and regardless of the various differences between them, he valued the duke's insight and access to the inner workings of Parliament. "Do I take this to mean, in your opinion, that it is inevitable?"</p><p>The long, heavy sigh was answer enough. "We hold on by a thread. I know not how long it will hold, and barring some extreme circumstance, I could not say that it will."</p><p>Sydney nodded thoughtfully. "It matters little, having already come to this point," he remarked. "If our faith is not explicitly outlawed, they call us rebels, terrorists, anarchists, and they raise the royal knights against us as well as the templars. The end result is the same. And we are not the only ones," he added. "I have spoken with the heads of other, smaller sects - they too face persecution, though not to the same degree. On the other hand, we have the Dark at our disposal where they do not. At times we have helped one another."</p><p>"Would that all faiths could likewise recognize how little it matters what name they have given the gods," the duke murmured. </p><p>At times, Sydney thought, the man could almost be comforting, for he and Sydney were of one mind in this, at least. "Which brings us around to the matter which caused me to seek your assistance. You may have heard, or perhaps not, of a small village to the east called Fentegel?"</p><p>"In passing, yes." The duke gave Sydney a knowing look. "I daresay I might not have heard of it, had it not come up in idle conversation as an oddity - they say that several dozen men and women have spent the summer there in recent years, working, and then they disappear just before the autumn solstice."</p><p>"Nothing escapes you, my lord." In truth, Sydney wondered if that was indeed how he had heard - the duke had allies and agents everywhere. "Fentegel is the reason I have come - the king's men burned it to the ground, not ten days past."</p><p>Though a stoic man, the duke's alarm showed in the furrowing of his brow. "Under what pretense?"</p><p>"Perhaps none," Sydney said simply. "Few travelers pass through to notice, and Fentegel was not visible from the main roads, hidden away within the hills. They left only a few alive, too poor and frightened to seek out assistance, or to spread the tale. ...We have given them what we could from our own provisions," Sydney admitted, "but we had little enough as it was when we arrived, and we had planned to support ourselves through the summer once again by working their fields. As you can imagine, that is no longer a possibility."</p><p>Of course the duke understood what he was saying. "...You know that my coffers greatly exceed my expenses."</p><p>"I would not have asked otherwise," Sydney replied. "There is a... satisfaction in earning one's keep through simple labor - but it is presently impossible."</p><p>"How many are with you?"</p><p>"Counting the refugees from Fentegel, approximately seventy-five." It was a great deal to ask, Sydney recognized, regardless of how much wealth the duke had stored up.</p><p>"Hmm..." The duke paused to think, stroking his beard. "This will require some finesse."</p><p>"I understand," Sydney said. "And I'm sure you understand that I would not ask you to take unnecessary risks. If it cannot be done, the gods will find a way." The possibility of a trail leading back to the duke made it far more daunting a request than the amount of money required to support so many for an unspecified duration.</p><p>The duke smiled absently. "I admire your strong faith. Though I would not deny the power of the gods, I would feel better knowing that I had done what I could to secure the safety of their children."</p><p>Which sounded like agreement to Sydney. "I believe," he said, "that often the way the gods find is through the deeds of willing men. But where man cannot endure, the gods will step in."</p><p>Still resting his chin in one hand thoughtfully, the duke nodded. "Perhaps." He lapsed into thought again for a short time. "...If you would be so kind as to see me in the western storehouse... and without anyone seeing <em>you</em>, if you take my meaning."</p><p>Sydney did. "When?"</p><p>"Just give me time enough..." He gave Sydney a slightly apologetic smile. "I do not move so quickly as I did in my youth."</p><p>Sydney nodded. "Should I arrive ahead of you, I will wait." And as a matter of fact... "Perhaps I will make myself known elsewhere in the meantime - there is something I had been meaning to do while I was here, and it should only take a few minutes."</p><p>"Go on then," the duke agreed. "And I will take my time."</p><p>Sydney stepped back... and decided against another deep bow to excuse himself. The duke seemed to want to make peace with him, and he <em>was</em> assisting Müllenkamp. And to be honest, talking to him alone had not been anywhere near so unpleasant as Sydney had feared it would be. Instead, he just gave the duke a respectful nod. "I will see you shortly, then." It was somewhat awkward, leaving the hall ahead of the duke, who was moving at a much slower pace - but if he preferred a lack of formalities, Sydney supposed the duke didn't mind. </p><p>And since he had a little while, both for the time it took for the duke to make his way to the storehouse and for him to prepare whatever it was he intended for Müllenkamp's aid, Sydney returned to the manor proper. Ignoring the strange looks and stray thoughts of servants, he made his way to the dining hall and the kitchen beyond. </p><p>The head cook, Maeta, spotted him before he spotted her - he felt one reaction of genuine warmth among all the other, less pleasant reactions. "Ah, there you are, lad - I had hoped you might come by to say hello," she said cheerfully, setting a mixing bowl aside to come and greet him. "You must be feeling better?"</p><p>He nodded, smiling in return. "Somewhat, thank you. Stronger as well, now that I've eaten a bit - I must say, you can be very persuasive."</p><p>"That I may be, but also easily persuadable," she chuckled. "Is there anything special you might like for dinner?"</p><p>He shook his head in amusement, more from teasing exasperation than denial. Maeta was relentless - it was no wonder she'd managed to thrive even in a house full of Iocus's fools. "If all goes well, madame, I shall be dining tonight on the most delectable of dry rations, for my business with the duke has nearly concluded."</p><p>She tsked at him. "Not if I have anything to say about it you won't. You just come back here when you're ready to go - I'll put some things together for you and your friend." She gave him a small wink, lowering her voice. "He's a handsome one, isn't he?"</p><p>Maeta was one of very few in the entire manor that would say such a thing without it being mockery, and likely the only one who would dare to say it to his face. Sydney raised an eyebrow at her. "...Is it so obvious?"</p><p>She raised an eyebrow right back at him. "It is now. ...Oh, don't look at me like that, I won't say a word, don't worry," she added, at his expression of mock dismay at having been tricked. "None of my concern anyway, nor anyone else's. My job is to make sure you're fed, and fed well. I know what you like - how about him, is there something he favors?"</p><p>It occurred to Sydney that he actually didn't know. Hardin had been half-starved when they met, grateful for anything that might fill him, and he still ate whatever was before him without comment, whether it was dry bread or Maeta's breakfast. "...I suppose that is something I have yet to learn."</p><p>"Well, you can tell me next time you're back. Assuming you <em>are</em> planning to come back again."</p><p>The idea instinctively filled him with dread, though he hadn't even left yet. But all things considered, it was probably inevitable, and he managed a small smile. "It appears likely." </p><p>And on that subject, he'd probably given the duke enough time. He excused himself after a bit more conversation, having promised to come back by the kitchen before he left the manor. It was clear what the duke had expected of him, and so Sydney found himself back in the small courtyard he'd escaped to during the previous night's dinner. Again, no one was present, he did not sense anyone's notice through the few windows in the surrounding walls...</p><p>Despite the duke having asked him to arrive in a way that he would not be seen, the man still started when Sydney appeared among the crates and chests. He said nothing of it, however, only collecting himself quickly and nodding his greeting. "It occurred to me," he said, keeping his voice low, for there were guards posted outside the storehouse, "that the amount of coin needed to support so many throughout the rest of the season would be... rather unwieldy."</p><p>Sydney nodded. That had been something he had already considered, and assumed that they would be making some sort of arrangements. "It need not be all at once, of course. And perhaps within a month or two, we will have found some other way to support ourselves, and we will have no further need."</p><p>"Again, I would rather be certain." The duke had been seated upon one of the crates, and he rose, offering Sydney a small, worn leather pouch he had hidden behind his folded hands. "I suppose I do not need to inform you of where such things might be sold without any troublesome inquiries?"</p><p>Sydney accepted it and drew back the cords to look inside. For a moment, he knew not what to say. He might have asked if the duke was certain, but despite his age and obviously declining physical strength, their conversation thus far had proven he was in full possession of his mental faculties. "...My lord, I am in your debt."</p><p>The duke sniffed in faint amusement. "You may repay me by keeping the children of Müllenkamp safe," he stated, "and her chosen not the least."</p><p>...So that was how it was to be. Not at all what Sydney had expected of the duke, but... it changed very little, if anything at all. He tugged at the drawstring, once again hiding a dozen or more large, finely-cut gemstones within the simple, weathered pouch that would attract no one's notice. "I swear that I will do all that I can."</p><p>"And if you have need of more," the duke added, "simply ask. You need not come yourself, if it troubles you - it may be safer, in fact, to send an emissary."</p><p>Sydney nodded. He should not be seen coming and going often, or even the sworn servants might be tempted, or only let something slip. "How will you know the ones that I might send?"</p><p>The duke's lips curled in a smirk. "Oh... I am sure I will know."</p><p>Sydney had to smirk himself in response - with the duke's cunning, surely he had his ways. And on the other hand, after this conversation between them... "...Perhaps if I came again, I would not find it so troubling."</p><p>"I should hope not," the duke replied, earnest.</p><p>Sydney did not know what to say to him. The past was behind them, and even the duke could not will it to change. "...Again, I thank you, sincerely," he said finally, tying the small pouch at his waist. "For the hospitality as well. I expect that Hardin and myself shall be leaving shortly - I think we would all prefer no formal send-off."</p><p>The duke nodded in agreement. "More trouble than it would be worth. And Sydney, about your friend Hardin..."</p><p>Sydney looked up from the work of his hands. Not that the duke's opinion of Hardin mattered, but he was somewhat curious what he might say.</p><p>"I knew his father - not well, but we met on several occasions. He was an honorable man," said the duke. "I know few details of the circumstances that led to his son's criminal deeds, but I would expect that the elder Lord Hardin raised his son to be honorable as well. Young John told us at dinner that he had sworn no oaths - but I had the impression his heart was faithful. I recommend keeping him on, if you can."</p><p>It was almost absurd hearing the duke give such advice - but in a certain sense, reassuring  that even he would vouch for Hardin's honor. "He is free to come or go as he wishes, but I agree - his heart is true, and I would have him remain for as long as the gods may lend him to us. Although, my lord," Sydney could not resist adding, "from what I have seen, an honorable father may still raise an insolent, rebellious son rather than one he might take pride in."</p><p>The duke shook his head slowly. "Only very rarely - and in such cases, the father often bears some of the blame."</p><p>Sydney closed his eyes for a moment, then turned away. "The gods are gracious," he replied simply. "Our business is concluded, my lord, and with my gratitude for your generosity - I shall not take more of your time."</p><p>Outside Leá Monde, he had to use the magic to transport himself rather than willing it, and as he raised a hand, the duke halted him with another soft word. "Sydney... I would rid myself of Ellemir, were it possible. Her presence shields my doings from those who would see the Bardorba legacy come to a disgraceful end beneath the cardinal's boot."</p><p>Sydney lowered his hand again, but did not look back to the duke. "I would have expected, with all your cunning, that you could have shielded yourself - but you have made the decisions that you thought were wisest, and I did not come here to question them."</p><p>He sensed more than heard the faint sigh, the nod of the duke's head. Sydney had been considering... and now he had decided. "And besides, I would not suggest that you rid yourself of Lady Ellemir just yet," he said, turning back to look over his shoulder at the duke. "As she bears your son."</p><p>He had been correct - the duke did not know, and his eyes widened in shock. "You are certain?"</p><p>Sydney nodded. Slowly, the duke sorted out his thoughts, and steadied his expression. "...I had not <em>entirely</em> lost hope for the Bardorba lineage," he murmured. "And yet..."</p><p>"As I said," Sydney stated softly. "The gods are gracious. Perhaps, seeing how much you have sacrificed on their behalf, they saw fit to provide a replacement for your son Tomas - for no one can bring him back. Farewell, my lord."</p><p>Raising his hand again, Sydney spoke the words and completed the gesture, and left the duke alone in the storehouse. </p><p>As for himself, he had returned to the courtyard, and stood there for a time, breathing evenly. Admittedly, that <em>had</em> gone more smoothly than he had expected, but still... it had been tense. Although his intention had been to go to the kitchen as he had promised once he had relaxed, and then to the suite he shared with Hardin to suggest he begin packing, he had just changed his mind, and on a number of things. Instead, Sydney went to the chapel.</p><p>The chapel was older than the Iocus faith that was at present in danger of becoming the state religion, the front hall furnished with statues of the ancient gods of Kiltia and their servants. Through the years, some had sought to repurpose them, given them different names and stories, but the Bardorba line had remained unbroken, the followers of Müllenkamp persisted, and thus the truth behind them had not been lost to time.</p><p>Slowly, Sydney made a circuit of them, pausing before each to offer a prayer, then entered the inner sanctuary to kneel before the altar. All these concerns clouding his mind were unimportant, he reminded himself. The duke's regrets, his unborn son, Hardin's eventual fate, even the prospect of his own - these were the concerns of ordinary men. He was naught but the devoted servant of the gods, a tool through which they might work their will. Whatever they asked of him, he would obey.</p><p>He remained there, in prayer and meditation, until his heart had calmed. In spite of having cleansed his mind as well as he could manage, he rose to his feet relieved that no one had come - that he had not heard Hardin call his name. As he had told the duke, he was the high priest and chosen of Müllenkamp - and it appeared that for the time being, he was to remain so.</p><p>-----</p><p>Even with the peace that Sydney's time in the chapel had granted him, it was a relief to leave the duke's manor behind later that afternoon - and undoubtedly the sentry and the guards were pleased to see the duke's "guests" exiting the gate. Again they would travel off the main roads during the daylight to avoid any accidental encounters, so into the forest they went, with Sydney picking their path back towards the east, and Hardin following a short distance behind. </p><p>Although calmer, Sydney's mind remained busy, for there was much to think about at the moment, and some matters should be decided as soon as possible. For instance, the manner in which the duke had provided his aid; he was correct in his assumption that Sydney knew where buyers could be found of ill repute, those who did not ask questions about where such fine jewels might have been obtained. There were some such buyers relatively nearby in the Graylands, in fact, and Sydney considered a slight detour before returning to the hilly region near Fentegel. There were few in that area who might have had the money to buy gems at a reasonable price, and those who might buy would almost certainly be suspicious of anyone <em>else</em> who had come upon such riches. </p><p>But then again, with only himself and Hardin, they would either have to carry the resulting coin or whatever was purchased with it. Better, Sydney supposed, to gather his brethren together again as soon as he could, and have the cart at the ready. Once he had sold a stone or two, there would be more hands to carry the coin and they could fall back upon their usual method of splitting into small groups to make small purchases, thus attracting as little attention as possible as they replenished their necessities.</p><p>It was matters like this, and the news the duke had brought from Parliament, that were occupying Sydney's thoughts some time later, when Hardin spoke up from behind him. "Sydney, do not do this to me again."</p><p>Sydney honestly had no idea what Hardin was talking about, and he glanced back. "Do what?"</p><p>"This." Hardin stopped walking, and so did Sydney, so as not to leave him behind. "This... distancing," Hardin continued, a vaguely frustrated expression on his face. "Every single time you and I reach a new understanding, you distance yourself... you retreat and hide within yourself so that I cannot find the man who..."</p><p>Hardin stopped there, visibly uncertain, and though Sydney waited, he said nothing more. "The man who what, Hardin?" he prompted.</p><p>"I'm not sure," Hardin admitted. "The man who... fascinates me. Who makes me feel as though I have a true friend, perhaps more."</p><p>Whatever Hardin thought Sydney was doing, it was unintentional. It also had nothing to do with Hardin - but then, Sydney recalled, Hardin had been working through some difficult emotions before they'd arrived at the manor, and suddenly he was dealing with <em>Sydney's</em> difficult emotions on top of them. Sydney turned to face him properly, for he certainly owed it to Hardin to listen.</p><p>"This... this phantom man," Hardin went on, "he seems to exist only for a split second, and just when I realize he is there, just when I reach out to touch him... he leaves me. When he leaves me, all I can think is that he must be playing some kind of game with me, for I know how he loves his games. ...I begin to wonder if I am just one of his toys."</p><p>He hesitated, and again Sydney waited. Hardin knew better. It would be much easier, he thought, if it was the truth, but they both knew better. When Hardin again said nothing more, Sydney nodded his acknowledgement. "But...?"</p><p>"See? This is precisely what I'm talking about, Sydney," Hardin said, throwing his hands up in annoyance. "The man I've seen vanishes, and none of his warmth remains in the shell he leaves behind. It looks like him, it walks like him and talks like him, but it doesn't care for or feel anything at all. Sometimes I wonder if he even exists, or if that too is part of some game."</p><p>...Surely Hardin didn't think he could just... stop being Müllenkamp's high priest, with all its complications, whenever he chose? That he could simply set aside that role if he wished, and act as if he were an ordinary man with ordinary concerns? Hardin was very good at reminding him that he still had such weaknesses as mortals might, yes, but he had seen the sorts of responsibilities Sydney had. Again, Hardin knew better.</p><p>Hardin had been glaring down at the ground in disgust, but at last he turned his head up again, just slightly, to look at Sydney, troubled. Yes, Hardin definitely knew better. "...But?" Sydney prompted again. Hardin could answer his own questions if he just thought them through.</p><p>Hardin sighed grudgingly. "But... when this man makes himself known to me... beyond all doubt, I <em>know</em> that this is who he is." He looked up to meet Sydney's eyes earnestly. "He has done more for me than anyone else in this life, and all I desire is to care for him the way he has cared for me."</p><p>The look of bare, helpless honesty in his eyes, giving credence to his words, was almost frightening. Especially given his words - Hardin deserved so much better than this kind of life, Sydney thought. He deserved peace, safety...</p><p>He deserved honesty as well, and so Sydney replied the only way he could. "You have," he said gently. "But the man is no more honest an entity than the shell. They are two halves of a whole, and you cannot have one without the other."</p><p>"Then that means that you are in there, even now."</p><p>That was true, yes... He wasn't even trying to hide it. ...Was he?</p><p>"I understand, truly I do," Hardin insisted, "but you have nothing to fear from me. I will not add to the burdens you bear, for I know how difficult it must-"</p><p>He was cut off by Sydney suddenly laughing, hollow and without humor. If Hardin's objective had been to provoke him into breaking through his calm and showing emotion, it seemed to have worked. "You do, do you?" Hardin did not even know about many of the burdens Sydney bore, some of which had only just presented themselves, and Hardin could <em>not</em> know. "Hardin, you understand nothing."</p><p>"Then help me to understand."</p><p>"The gods tell me many things, most of which are meant for my ears alone," Sydney informed him, shaking his head. "I would not break their confidence."</p><p>"Then tell me something that does not come from the gods," Hardin said firmly. "You know all of my secrets, Sydney - my heart was laid out before you long ago, and yet I've learned next to nothing of you, in all these months. I want to know you... to understand you."</p><p>This was hardly surprising. It went along with Sydney's reluctant acknowledgement the night before that Hardin loved him, and that his own feelings were... different, when it came to Hardin. But then Sydney had realized what he had been seeing in that inexplicable vision, and everything regarding Hardin had become so much more complicated - and he'd had no time at all to sort it out. </p><p>All he wanted, he thought with sudden irritation, was enough time and space to consider things before he had to act on them. "Did it ever occur to you that I might not want or need to be 'understood'? Perhaps I am content to remain alone."</p><p>"Yes, it did occur to me - and I discarded the notion almost immediately. I've seen you night after night, crying silently in your sleep, waking to take what comfort you can in the embrace of anyone willing to share your bed. And yet you keep them at arm's length, never letting them see your tears..." Again, Hardin was fixing him with that look, so earnest and entirely transparent. "After what I felt when your mind connected with mine last night, it made me all the more certain; deep down, you need to know that someone cares for you - for <em>you</em>," he said vehemently, "not for your power or your position! Sydney, I will not fault you for your tears, or your uncertainties... they make you real."</p><p>Sydney dared not let himself be affected by that look, or by Hardin's words. Not when he knew what he knew, and that Hardin did not. "What is it that you want from me?" he asked. "We have a journey to make, and this is wasting our time."</p><p>Hardin sighed, giving up in frustration. "I want you to let me in," he muttered. "Only a little, if that is all you would be comfortable with. I want to learn things about you that are not obvious to everyone. That is all."</p><p>Hardin had been correct that the man was still inside, until that moment hidden behind the calm the gods had granted their high priest - and that man presently felt agitated, unsettled... and somewhat guilty over it. Regardless of Sydney's conflicted thoughts and erratic emotions, Hardin had been unfailingly patient and kind with him over the last few days - and Sydney had not made it easy. By contrast, Hardin was not asking for anything difficult. "And if I tell you something about myself," Sydney suggested, "can we end this discussion and move on?"</p><p>Hardin looked surprised that he'd actually offered. "Well... yes."</p><p>"All right then..." Sydney thought for a moment. Something about himself, something that was not obvious... It was a strange request, when Hardin already had witnessed so much that Sydney kept hidden. Hardin already knew more of him than most. ...But then again, Sydney suddenly recalled that conversation in the kitchen with Maeta, when she had asked him what Hardin might like to eat, and he'd realized he had no idea. Perhaps something small would do - something trivial, something he never mentioned not because it was a deeply held secret, but because it wasn't.</p><p>"When I was younger, I played the harp," Sydney said abruptly. He wasn't sure why he'd said that, in particular, but it had come to mind. "It was a refuge of sorts... very calming."</p><p>Hardin hadn't expected that sort of answer either, clearly, but after the initial bewilderment, he looked thoughtful.</p><p>"I had to leave it behind when I left my home," Sydney continued. "Given the life I lead now, such a large musical instrument is unnecessary - just another thing to have to carry, and our burdens are already heavy enough." His arms were crossed over his chest, one bladed finger tapping impatiently on his forearm. "And besides, once I'd gotten these hands of mine," he acknowledged, with a glance down at it before looking back to Hardin, "it became next to impossible to play anything involving strings."</p><p>Hardin bit his lip suddenly. Sydney had to smile himself. "Feel free to laugh, Hardin - it <em>is</em> a rather amusing thought."</p><p>Given permission, Hardin did let himself chuckle. It had been some time since Sydney had seen that kind of smile from him, and he'd missed it. "Even so," Hardin remarked, "it is a pity that you should be left unable to do something that once brought you joy."</p><p>"I do miss it terribly sometimes," Sydney admitted. "But it was perhaps the smallest sacrifice of those I have made." It might not have been a good idea to say that much, he realized - it invited further questions, and despite the lingering smile, Hardin was looking at him in that way he had. Attentive, earnest, open...</p><p>But Hardin remembered their compromise. "I wish I'd been able to hear you play," was all he said.</p><p>That was a surprisingly bittersweet thing to say. Sydney smiled faintly and shrugged. "Now, can we move on?"</p><p>"Aye, that is what we agreed."</p><p>With that, Sydney turned again to seek out the simplest way through the underbrush. A few steps later, he heard Hardin following behind him. And then, as if an afterthought, "Sydney?"</p><p>Sydney glanced back to find Hardin regarding him seriously. "Thank you," Hardin told him.</p><p>Sydney hesitated, then merely nodded before continuing on his way. </p><p>Apparently the one concession was enough to satisfy Hardin for the time being, for after that, he was willing to leave Sydney to his thoughts for the rest of the daylight and into the night. It suited Sydney well enough, because in addition to everything else weighing on his mind, it was apparent that he was not going to be able to put off trying to determine what he must do about Hardin, as well as what he <em>wanted</em> to do about Hardin - and what to do with the fact that the answers were likely to contradict each other. </p><p>First, although he didn't want to, he <em>had</em> to examine the revelation he'd had the night before with a clear head. Or a clearer head - it was awkward and unsettling to be thinking such thoughts while hearing Hardin's footfalls only a few paces behind him. To think that he had seen Hardin terribly injured, almost certainly mortally so given the location of the wound and the amount of blood. At the time, he had been - or would be - with Duke Bardorba's young son. That much seemed exceedingly clear, but there were questions. First and foremost to Sydney was: where was <em>he</em>? Why had he not been there to heal Hardin before he had bled out so much? Unfortunately, unless the gods thought to show him more, he had no way of knowing.</p><p>He had no way of knowing any more than what he'd seen, he admitted. Whether to pin down what the vision meant, or to determine if it was one of those that could be averted if he managed to fulfill some task, like the man-turned-demon who would bring down the wrath of the gods.  At least, as he had realized that morning, this vision could not come to pass for another few years at best. He had time to determine whether or not it was unavoidable.</p><p>...He had time. Müllenkamp had told him the same, that he had time to consider Hardin's role. Though he would not have doubted the Lady's word, it was reassuring to find supporting evidence. Regarding Hardin's role with her children... in light of the vision he <em>did</em> now understand, it seemed very unlikely that the other that had been puzzling him meant that Hardin was to be his successor.</p><p>And that set him back at the beginning, with no leads as to what Hardin's importance was. Looking closely at him as the Lady had suggested had as of yet given him no hint whatsoever.</p><p>Unless, he realized late that evening, as they were making their way back towards the roads for quicker travel... unless that was not why she had told him to look closely. She had never said, specifically, that he was looking for an important role Hardin might play within their sect. Sydney had only asked what he must do with him. Considering what he so often thought while looking upon Hardin...</p><p>...And the revelation regarding his vision had not been the only epiphany he'd had the night before about what Hardin might become, after all.</p><p>That could not have been what she was trying to make him see. That was absurd, certainly not a matter in which the gods or the Lady might intervene. It was just as well that Hardin walked behind Sydney, for if any expression crossed Sydney's face at the thought, Hardin surely would have asked if something was wrong. And no, nothing was wrong - it was merely <em>ridiculous</em>.</p><p>That epiphany was unquestionable, however, especially considering Hardin's words after they had set out. To say that Sydney had done more for him than anyone he'd ever known? The man was clearly infatuated, for that too was ridiculous. Perhaps when they'd first met, Sydney had seemed generous, but since then Sydney had been careless, distant... His selfishness at the spring rites had nearly gotten Hardin killed, and made him an unwitting vessel of the Dark, a burden he would have to live with for the rest of his days. He'd ranted and lashed out at Hardin after Hardin had heard him call for help within their dreams. Just in the last few days, he'd been outright rude, and then he had had the gall to accept the kindness Hardin offered when he broke down completely. What had he done for Hardin but to make his life more complicated?</p><p>And after only a night's passing, he had woken in the morning to Hardin's face, smiling at him. He would have said Hardin was a fool, but more so himself - for in spite of how terrible the past night had been, the morning had seemed close to perfect. There were few alternative explanations for that.</p><p>If Sydney had been traveling on his own, he might have indulged in some exasperated gesture or a muttered curse, for the serenity Sydney had found in the chapel before they left the manor was now truly shattered, and he had only himself to blame. Since Hardin was still close behind him, he refrained and simply kept walking.</p><p>Sydney was still slightly unsettled when they stopped for sleep a few hours before dawn, inching back towards their previous habit of traveling mostly at night. Since he was now paying attention, he recognized it for what it was when he discovered he'd grown much calmer while he and Hardin wordlessly set up their camp - starting the small fire, sharing a light meal. Maeta had packed a small bag of dry mix so they could merely boil water to have soup, and there was fresh bread and cheese besides. Sydney watched as Hardin ate, a satisfied look upon his face, and Sydney found himself wondering.</p><p>He'd thought he'd been in love a handful of times. In hindsight, all but one instance had been no more than childish infatuation, and that one instance... That had been different, presumably fated, given the outcome. It never could have ended well, but if he had not been so foolish and defiant, it might not have ended quite so badly. And because of who they both were... Sydney might as well have become a different person upon assuming the role of Müllenkamp's high priest - and he knew with certainty that he would never meet another like Johann, who had held that place before him.</p><p>Hardin was most definitely nothing like Johann. And if he was not to be Sydney's successor, anything between them was not that sort of fated encounter. They could not have that sort of kinship, that innate understanding. And as the Keeper of the Dark, Sydney could not become overly attached to any single person, lest he inadvertently favor them in the choices that he alone must make. But then, if Hardin was an ordinary man, and... as he'd said earlier, saw Sydney as a man, his power and position notwithstanding, yet Sydney had said that the man and the persona he must maintain as Müllenkamp's high priest were two halves of a whole, one simply folded within the other...</p><p>They had time, Sydney thought again as they extinguished the fire, before he had to make any decisions. He wondered if it would really be so terrible to just... accomodate that half of him that had been ignored for so long.</p><p>He could hear that Hardin was still shifting from time to time, trying to get comfortable, when he finally gave in. "Hardin?"</p><p>"Hmm?" came the curious reply.</p><p>Sydney wasn't sure why it was so hard this time, when he was normally quite content to be straightforward, even to simply give orders and expect them to be obeyed. Perhaps because there were differences between the high priest and the man. "It's a bit cold, is it not?"</p><p>"I suppose it is."</p><p>They fell silent again, and Sydney mentally berated himself for being a coward. Of course Hardin was too well-mannered, perhaps too inexperienced to recognize what he meant. It was tempting to just let it drop, but he'd managed to speak up already, and leaving it there probably seemed odd. "...I was thinking," he said after a moment. "About what you said earlier."</p><p>"Hmm." Hardin sounded somewhat pleased just at that admission. "And?"</p><p>Sydney felt like such a fool. "Perhaps it's only that I'm tired... or because my mind is still weak from having to endure <em>that place</em>, but..."</p><p>There was a long pause, as Hardin waited for him to finish, and he... couldn't. "But what?" Hardin asked finally.</p><p>Sydney lost his nerve. "...Nothing much, I suppose. It's foolish."</p><p>"Is it a sin in your faith to be foolish now and then?" Hardin asked. "Only I and the gods are here to hear your words now - and I will not fault you for something said in a moment of weakness."</p><p>So far he hadn't. Sydney sighed faintly. "Weakness... yes. Unlike you or the gods, I can't abide it in myself, John."</p><p>"So although you're only a man, you are more demanding than the gods themselves."</p><p>He had a point, and Sydney laughed quietly in spite of himself. Which of them was the priest...? "I am - I'm sorry."</p><p>"No need to apologize - you wrong yourself, not I." There was another quiet rustling as Hardin rolled over to face him. "I'll ask for nothing that would hurt you, Sydney, but if it pains you to remain silent, then please... talk to me. I won't judge you."</p><p>Sydney dared not look away from the slowly lightening sky above them. "And besides," he remarked, "now you're curious."</p><p>"That also is true."</p><p>So he should just say it. "I was thinking that... perhaps you are right."</p><p>"About?"</p><p>"...Perhaps I do want to be understood... by someone," Sydney admitted, and could not stop himself from immediately discrediting his own words. "The notion will pass, though - it is rare that I should think such a thing."</p><p>"That doesn't mean that you have to smother it when it comes," Hardin encouraged him. "Any time you wish to explain yourself, just speak to me - I..." He stopped suddenly before finishing. "I shall always be willing to hear you out."</p><p>"I know." Sydney was not sure what Hardin had almost said, but at this time, they were men, and Hardin was appropriately shielding his heart; Sydney would not pry. </p><p>And they'd gotten off on a tangent from his original intention. "I don't believe I ever thanked you for last night's care." It seemed so long ago now already, yet the shadows that had nothing to do with the Dark still haunted around the edges of his thoughts.</p><p>"It was no trouble," Hardin assured him, rolling onto his back again. "Think nothing of it."</p><p>Of course Hardin would say so. "You enjoyed it, did you?"</p><p>Hardin chuckled, and Sydney turned his head to look at him, barely visible in the dim light of approaching dawn, as he smiled up at the sky. "If you had not been in such pain, it would have been far more enjoyable. I'm afraid I was too worried about you to truly <em>enjoy</em> it... but in a sense, yes."</p><p>...So why was this so hard, Sydney wondered? Perhaps it was just that in spite of Hardin claiming that Sydney had done so much for him, Sydney felt it had been precisely the opposite. He didn't deserve to ask more of Hardin.</p><p>Sydney must have been silent for too long, for Hardin turned his head as well, glancing back at him, and the remnants of a smile on his face faded into a more serious look. "You were right," Hardin said after a moment, "it <em>is</em> cold. The chill seems to be seeping right through my blankets. It might be more pleasant for the both of us were we to share... May I, Sydney?"</p><p>Sydney smiled, relieved, as Hardin began to gather up his blankets. "You may."</p><p>It was an unconvincing premise to begin with - it had been notably colder during their journey towards the duke's manor due to the rain and wind, and Sydney had slept outdoors in far worse than that. Having fled his imprisonment in the winter season, to the north, with no blankets, Hardin probably considered the situation quite comfortable by comparison, if not so much as their suite in the manor. Better to lie on the cold, hard ground, Sydney thought as Hardin stretched out beside him, than a soft mattress near a blazing fire in <em>that</em> place - and Hardin's arms around him improved either.</p><p>"Ah, much better," Sydney murmured into Hardin's shoulder, resting his head upon the man's outstretched arm and curling up against him. "Thank you, John." For far more than the warmth.</p><p>"No need for thank yous," Hardin said sleepily, settling his own head down. "You'll keep me warm as well."</p><p>And he was enjoying this just as much as Sydney was, Sydney thought with a silent chuckle.  "Indeed."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Though the journey eastward remained swift and mostly silent, warily making their way in the anonymity of night, it seemed to Sydney that the longer it lasted, the more comfortable it was. Not only did the weather improve, between the seasonal shift and having left the damp of the Graylands behind, but his mood improved drastically, and his talent told him it was the same for Hardin. Lacking the imminent need to focus on anything or anyone besides themselves and each other, they had time to think, and when it seemed useful, to speak freely about what was on Hardin's mind, and... <em>some</em> of what was on Sydney's, at least. There were things which by necessity he dared tell no one at all. Even if he knew Hardin to be trustworthy, the state had skilled inquisitors. Given their situation and his position, he had no choice but to be realistic, although the fact that he could even imagine the possibility of Hardin coming to such a fate repulsed him.</p><p>Even holding back, the relative freedom and his decision to indulge the more human aspect of himself made the next few days a time of reflection for Sydney, a time of healing from the old wounds reopened by the visit to the duke's manor. Some of which had never been tended, he was coming to realize, and it was like a bone not properly set - a leg which could be walked upon once more, but with a permanent limp. But then again, when it came to the soul, the purest distillation of a person, was anything truly permanent? Absent the awkward limitations of the physical body in which it was housed, could not even a shattered soul perhaps be mended in time?</p><p>Sydney remembered very little of his early childhood, and even without an alternative to compare it to, he knew that his adolescence must have been highly abnormal. It had mattered very little to him since, for when he assumed his role with Müllenkamp, he cast aside his prior life; it was a rebirth, and the troubled boy he had been was no more. Better to forget he had ever existed. If things from his youth came back to haunt him from time to time? It was only that he was imperfect, and some part of the man he was now had been unable to forget.</p><p>But now, faced with someone who thought of him as a fellow man, who valued that <em>more</em> than the revered high priest he had become... Sydney was beginning to suspect that he had skipped over some things that perhaps were more important than he thought. For instance, he was aware that the attentions of his followers, though mutually pleasurable and willingly offered, were not what one generally would call romantic relationships. His few flirtations with such a concept before the priesthood had ended in disaster, and it troubled him little to have a reason not to try again.</p><p>In other words, he had no idea what he was doing. It likely should have come as no surprise that his attempts to feel out this unusual kinship between himself and Hardin - though it was unusual mostly because he himself was involved, he admitted - were hesitant and awkward, often leaving him irritable and eager to give up, for they were very reminiscent of where he had left off during that stunted, miserable adolescence. The oracle of the gods, and yet he was reduced to this, he thought sardonically time and again. It did not help that he had spent the last several years never considering any of this as a possibility - even had he been willing to allow himself to let his guard down, to single someone out as the high priest's <em>partner</em> rather than one of many consorts would have been to put them in a vulnerable position, and possibly compromise himself.</p><p>But Hardin was patient, forgiving, and almost as awkward in his own way. He also must not have had much of an adolescence, a boy become man almost overnight with the death of his parents, suddenly becoming responsible for his brother and his family's entire estate much too young. The few glimpses Sydney had caught of past encounters in Hardin's heart had not seemed so much romance as experimentation and expediency - a need to escape from his worries, if only occasionally as time and duty permitted; a young soldier far from home, lonely and frustrated. Unlike Sydney, though, he had longed for a connection that was more than physical, whereas Sydney had dismissed all thoughts of anything <em>but</em>.</p><p>His instincts still maintained that he was playing a dangerous game, one that was likely to hurt them both, by entertaining the idea. That anything beyond an appropriately distant friendship with Hardin, perhaps an impersonal tryst, was a distraction at best, an impending disaster at worst. Given the vision he had seen, part of him wanted to drive Hardin away before his fate became inevitable.</p><p>But then, it gave Hardin such pleasure - the mere touch of a hand, a word softly spoken, a shared smile. They both slept more comfortably at each other's side; the dreams had stayed away from Sydney since he began sleeping in Hardin's arms, and if Hardin had suffered his own nightmares of darkness and stone and flickering flame, they must have fled quickly upon waking to Sydney's face. It made Sydney wonder, was it truly so bad if he should have these small luxuries, when Hardin enjoyed them just as much, or even more? They were alone, and Sydney held the security of his brethren tucked away inside a bag at his waist - he could do nothing more for them than continue on to where he would meet them again. At the moment, he had no reason to be concerned. So just for the next few days, perhaps he could be permitted to relax and make believe he was only an ordinary man? Soon enough he would have to return to a more responsible, thoughtful role as Keeper and high priest, with many people depending on him, but not yet.</p><p>And so they walked closer during the night, in the dim light of dawn they spoke quietly of unimportant matters. Hardin related tales of his days in the PeaceGuard where he had learned the woodlore he practiced now, Sydney spoke of the Müllenkamp sect's roaming habits, from which he had learned some of the same. A hand might fall upon a knee by the fireside, eyes might meet a bit too long. But in spite of the physical attraction that had been present almost from the start, in spite of the isolation that all but ensured they had complete privacy, they did no more than sleep after settling down together in their blankets. It seemed as if it should be a strange thing, but Sydney supposed he understood why it was every bit as satisfying as sharing more than his blankets with any of his consorts among the brethren. He resisted naming it, he was vaguely concerned about it, but he did understand it.</p><p>After a few days of such peacefulness, the dreams were even more jarring than usual. At first it was only puzzling - the sense of running, fleeing, looking over a shoulder, breath coming too quickly. Spells cast, armor flashing in their light. Running again, tears, more running - muffled voices that were as if someone were speaking another language, underwater. A more ordinary voice, calling his name, desperate and so tired...</p><p>Sydney's eyes opened suddenly, and he drew in a deep breath. That had been no dream.</p><p>His heart pounded, and he moved hurriedly to sit up, only to find himself beneath Hardin's arm. This time it offered no comfort, and Sydney found himself tensing all the more as Hardin's hand absently, automatically moved to rub his back...</p><p>He needed to get out. He needed to get away. Before it could go any further, Hardin's hand was stilled as Sydney cast the spell that would keep Hardin asleep, and slipped carefully out from beneath before rescinding it.</p><p>They had not slept for long - it was perhaps midday judging from the shadows of the trees above the cluster of bushes they'd hidden themselves in. Sydney was now wide awake regardless, trembling from the intensity of the vision he had been shown and knowing exactly what it meant. Some of his followers were under attack, praying for help from the gods, praying that he would rescue them. They must have been yet some distance away, as he could not sense the presence of anyone else around, but it would not have been the first time the gods had answered the prayers of his brethren by simply passing them along to him. They would not have done so unless he was close enough to not be too late.</p><p>In his haste to be that answer to prayer, Sydney would have set out at once - but then he turned back to pick up his pack, and his eyes fell upon Hardin, still asleep. While he had been lying peacefully in Hardin's arms, he thought to himself, what had his brethren been enduring?</p><p>...He was losing control again, he realized, and stepped away to pace, try to control his breathing. It would not do to set out in pursuit if he wound up too dizzy to keep his footing in the forest. He would be of no help if he were breathing too hard to cast spells, and those who had called to him would expect him to be steady.</p><p>He had managed to school himself back into a semblance of calm, enough that he could stop pacing and had knelt, carving out runes in the earth in an idle form of meditation, when he heard slightly uneven footsteps behind him. "Ah, you are awake," he observed, looking back. "We must depart, Hardin."</p><p>Hardin looked to still be drowsy, but the realization that something wasn't right was waking him more quickly. "Now, Sydney? In broad daylight?"</p><p>"Now." Hardin actually flinched when Sydney stood and turned his eyes on him; Sydney didn't have the thoughts to spare to feel guilty about it. "Set about gathering our things," he told Hardin, heading back towards their camp to do the same.</p><p>Obedient as usual, Hardin followed. "You've seen something, haven't you?"</p><p>"Quite observant. We are close to one of the brethren's small parties, and we must reach them immediately." He shouldn't have been so casual about the return trip - they might have spent their time in further travel rather than pleasant, useless conversation.</p><p>Hardin was changing quickly as Sydney was gathering the blankets. "Would you mind telling me what this is about?" he asked.</p><p>"There is no point in discussing it." He didn't dare, lest he begin to falter again and waste more time. Carelessly, he shoved the blankets into his pack without bothering to fold them. "Save your breath, Hardin - you shall need it before this day is through."</p><p>"As you wish, then." Hardin hesitated. "But Sydney, what of you? Are you all right?"</p><p>"Does it matter?" He must do what he must do. He was needed. He had to protect his flock, his family. Trying to fit everything in his pack without folding the blankets had left it untidy, and hurrying to tie it closed, he nearly severed one of the straps with an errant claw. In his frustration, he flung the pack away from him, and struck the tree he knelt beneath with his fist before sinking down, head in hands. He could not afford to waste time being careful, but neither could he waste time by being careless.</p><p>Hardin had ducked away warily from the pack Sydney had thrown, but after a pause, Sydney heard his cautious footsteps approaching. "Yes," Hardin answered him. "Yes, it does."</p><p>His brethren were in danger - some likely already dead. Still curled into himself, Sydney swatted at Hardin in frustrated rage as the man tried to sit down beside him, to comfort him, and instead was forced to back off. They had no time to tend to Sydney's feelings about the matter. "Don't touch me, Hardin. It does <em>not</em> matter," he stated bitterly. "Collect your things."</p><p>Fortunately, this time Hardin obliged, and silently gathered up what was left of their minimal campsite as Sydney sat curled up beneath the tree, trying to breathe evenly, trying to stop shaking. As soon as Hardin was ready, they <em>must</em> leave, and he <em>must</em> be ready to offer whatever aid his brethren needed. Whether it was the support of his magic, his sword, the wisdom of the gods... </p><p>He had managed to pull himself together somewhat by the time Hardin had finished packing, and stood before Hardin could get any further ideas about comforting <em>him</em>. "We must hurry," was all he said, as he went to retrieve the pack he'd hurled into the bushes in his anger. "We are late already."</p><p>"...For...?" Hardin asked, but Sydney was already starting off to the east. He could not have been certain, from the dream alone, from which direction the plea for help had come - but they had left the brethren scattered in the east, and the east was the direction that <em>felt</em> right. In past occasions, the gods had guided his steps, and so if he felt compelled to bear one direction over another, it was best to obey.</p><p>As he made his way through the forest, he found himself moving faster and faster; his limbs would not tire as those of an ordinary man, and his sense that he was needed urgently was strong. Hardin was beginning to fall further behind, but Sydney kept on. Hardin was practiced in woodlore and tracking, even without his talent he would not have found himself lost. And the danger lay ahead of them, somewhere...</p><p>Eventually, he felt it - the glint of a familiar presence ahead, proving the gods had steered him correctly. He breathed a silent prayer of gratitude and did not hesitate. The Dark stretched between him and the other party; a familiar presence resolved into two familiar presences. ...Only two. His heart faltered, but his steps did not.</p><p>It was not long after that he heard a rustling in the brush directly ahead of him. He was not the only one; behind him, Hardin called out, just quiet enough for Sydney to hear. "There ahead - someone coming quickly!" And thank the gods for that, Sydney thought to himself.</p><p>The first to step free of the thick brush was Branla, her face scratched and her dark hair tangled, but her eyes lit up with relief at the sight of him. Following just behind her was Kirrienne, similarly disheveled and almost wild-eyed as she called out his name. "Sydney!"</p><p>"Oh, thank the gods we've found you," Branla moaned as he rushed to meet the two of them, nearly catching Branla as she slumped into his arms, exhausted and relieved. She let herself rest against Sydney only a moment before straightening, and he pressed a quick kiss against her lips. Much like himself, she had been trying to stay strong, for she was needed...</p><p>But now Branla could rest, because Sydney was there to take Kirrienne into his embrace, to let her sob against his shoulder as he held her gently. Exhausted as both women were, Sydney easily gathered from their hearts the basic outline of what had happened. His own heart sank, and he was all too glad to already be holding Kirrienne. But he was their leader, their high priest - he could and must do more than share their grief.</p><p>Hardin had caught up, so Sydney could leave Branla with him and lead Kirrienne a short distance away, to speak with her more privately. "Kirrienne," he said gently. "Do you realize how much the gods love you?"</p><p>She shook her head helplessly, covering her face with her hands, and he arrested them lightly, looking her in the eye. "Jared and Theonas were beloved of the gods as well. We call one another brothers and sisters, for we are all the gods' beloved children," he reminded her. "It is no surprise that you should be so distraught over their loss - but also should come as no surprise that our two brothers would give their very lives to protect their sisters. Surely you would have done the same."</p><p>"But I could not, I could not," she murmured. "I could do nothing - why should they have sacrificed themselves for me, so useless-" </p><p>Her voice broke, and she turned her head away, crying harder. In her heart, Sydney could see them, standing firm against the knights as Kirrienne had looked over her shoulder. Branla tugging her away with one hand, sword ready in the other.  Sydney shook his head. "As I said, the gods love you, Kirrienne. Your talents and gifts may be different than those of our brethren or Branla, but you are one of us. You <em>are</em> beloved, and unique, and our fellowship would be lesser without you."</p><p>"B-but," she sobbed. "Without them, too..."</p><p>Sydney nodded. "It is senseless and cruel that this has happened, that we should lose any among our brothers and sisters - of course it is right that you should mourn the loss. But there is no need to take it upon yourself. To blame yourself is to say that Jared and Theonas had no choice in the matter, or that it was not the Blades who were at fault. Surely you would not say such a thing."</p><p>"No," she admitted, calming somewhat. "But..."</p><p>"Each of us is responsible for our own actions," Sydney told her. "Each of us has free will, the right to choose what we think best. Our brothers <em>chose</em> to defend you, and I know they were not so foolish as to not understand what it meant. You are precious to them, Kirrienne," he murmured. The gods were close at hand, so much wiser than he, and he opened his heart to them. "So precious. To believe you are not worthy is to go against your own brothers' beliefs. They loved you, as do I, as do the gods. Oh, Kirrienne," he whispered firmly, his hands sliding up from where they grasped her wrists to instead hold her hands gently, "you are <em>so loved</em>."</p><p>The love the gods had for her was, in this moment, flowing from them through Sydney, a mere intermediary for that limitless, boundless love. Somewhere, in the corner of his mind that remained his own, Sydney recognized it with a peaceful acceptance. <em>This</em> was love, the truest love, the love that he was meant to profess - not to any lone man or woman, not with any physical component, but the steadfast, overwhelming love of the gods for those they created, the joy that overflowed to the presence of those who loved them in return. The same that he had shown Hardin that afternoon beneath the tree...</p><p>"And yes," he answered the question she did not dare voice, tears frozen in her eyes, holding her breath, "Jared and Theonas are just as beloved and just as worthy. I could not say why this should happen, at this time - rarely do such tragedies make sense to those of us who remain behind. But you <em>do</em> remain, and that means there is more that you may do. Again, I could not say what it is, but I know that you will find it," he assured her. "Not on this day, for your heart is tired and troubled - but there will come a day when you understand why you are still with us. When it comes, I have faith that you will do the work that remains, and do it boldly, with all the love you have been shown guiding you, shining through you."</p><p>Her eyes were still wet, but she had mostly stopped crying, and nodded shakily. "...Thank you... I just... I can't..."</p><p>Sydney nodded, understanding. Even her own heart wasn't sure what she wanted to say, she was so weary and distraught, but <em>that</em> he understood. He was coming back to himself now, the gods having given Kirrienne reassurance that this was no mistake, and he reached up to draw her a bit closer, kissing her lightly on the forehead. "You do not need to. Not now. Come, and rest," he urged her. Still holding one of her hands in his own, he turned back to where Hardin was standing, talking with Branla, who had settled down against a tree. "I am here, and our friend Hardin as well, and you must sleep."</p><p>Branla was just as exhausted, Sydney observed, possibly more so, for she felt numb - or for any number of other reasons, she might have been managing the trauma of the situation better than Kirrienne. She would be all right, he thought as he led Kirrienne over to Branla and Hardin, and that was fortunate, for he had other business to attend to. They were not alone in the woods - and the gods, while using his body and his voice, had given him a measure of insight about the situation.</p><p>"Take care of her, Hardin," Sydney instructed him, not letting go of Kirrienne's hand but offering it to him. "Take care of both of them, and I shall deal with this myself." As Hardin obliged, taking Kirrienne's hand into his own, Sydney shrugged off the pack he had been carrying, dropping it at their feet. "Keep watch for our pursuers while they sleep - once Branla has rested, she should prove to be quite useful to you. I shall be gone for perhaps a few days."</p><p>Hardin was already nodding in agreement, but stopped abruptly at the last few words. "...A few <em>days</em>? What do you intend to do, Sydney?"</p><p>Sydney was not quite sure himself, but one thing he was certain of - the safety of the brethren was his responsibility, and he loosed the sword at his belt. Enough of acting as if he were but a man, he thought with disgust - entirely for himself, for his own selfishness. "What I must," he replied quietly.</p><p>"But Sydney!" Hardin protested. "A few days? I don't think-"</p><p>Sydney met his eyes, stopping him mid-sentence. ...It was very nearly a mistake, for Hardin was hurt as much as he was surprised. This was not his fault, it was Sydney's - but that meant it was Sydney who needed to address it, and he could not keep the impatience from his voice. "Do you defy me, Hardin? Or do you doubt me?"</p><p>Hardin shook his head. "No, neither," he replied, and then, more softly, "I... I doubt myself."</p><p>"Then you doubt my judgment." Before he could say or do anything he would regret, Sydney turned to leave, stalking into the thick brush where Branla and Kirrienne had emerged, ignoring Hardin's call after him.</p><p>It was far from an ideal situation, and the outcome far from certain, but Sydney had few choices. Branla and Kirrienne needed to rest, and among all the things Sydney did <em>not</em> know, he <em>did</em> know that Hardin would protect them as well as he was able - and he'd been able to evade the king's men for some time on his own, even in the weakened, distressed state he had been in after escaping the prison. In a way, it was serendipitous that someone with Hardin's particular skills happened to be with him at this time. Perhaps <em>that</em> was why he had felt the urge for Hardin to accompany him to the duke's manor, rather than other reasons. Other childish, selfish reasons...</p><p>Sydney was pulled out of his thoughts, halting for a moment, as he heard footsteps approaching behind him. "Sydney..." Hardin began, hesitant, as Sydney turned.</p><p>"This is not about my instructions to you," Sydney observed. If it were, Hardin would have simply asked, and done his best to obey. Instead, he looked pained.</p><p>"...Why do you do this to me?" Hardin asked finally. "You know that I..."</p><p>There were so many ways to finish that sentence, so many things Sydney knew about Hardin and how he felt. "Am uncertain?" he suggested. "Or I know that you need me?"</p><p>Hardin's eyes lowered for an instant, his thoughts turned inward. "Both, perhaps..."</p><p>Hardin understood so little. It may have been that Sydney's self-indulgent dalliance with him, taking his attention away from his devotion to his followers, had not been responsible for the death of at least two of the brethren. But it might have played a role, at the least. And Hardin certainly couldn't know that if he was fated to die for Sydney, that day was not to come for years. For the time being, his safety and those with him might be as well as promised.</p><p>...But then again, it might not. And the peace he had found with Hardin in the past few days, the simple joy of mortal companionship, might not have compared to the peace and love of the gods, but it had been welcome. So very welcome...</p><p>Even so, Sydney knew what was required of him, and what was not.</p><p>Hardin was still waiting for an answer. Instead, Sydney reached out, frustration making the motion rough as he took hold of Hardin's shirt, tugging him down into a kiss much gentler.</p><p>One last minor indulgence. Sydney turned away before he could see Hardin's reaction, for it mattered not at all. It could not happen again. "We've no time for this," he stated firmly as he strode off into the trees. It was as much a reminder to himself as an admonishment to Hardin.</p><p>Behind him, Hardin had momentarily been thrown off balance, but collected himself enough to call after him again. "Is that it, then, Sydney?" he shouted angrily. "Does this make it all right?"</p><p>No. It didn't. But nothing would. Sydney kept walking.</p><p>-----</p><p>Sydney was correct in that they had no time, for his first order of business presented itself very quickly indeed. Straight ahead of him as he backtracked along the unsubtle trail through the underbrush left by the two women once they had determined he was close, the Dark informed him of another presence - or rather, several. He had suspected that the reason the knights had not overtaken Kirrienne and Branla, tired and helpless as they were, was in hopes they would lead the knights straight to their high priest, and these suspicions seemed to have been proven correct. </p><p>Well then, he thought to himself as he stopped in an open area ahead of a veritable wall of brambles. After a moment's thought, he removed his cloak and tossed it aside. If they sought the high priest, the high priest they would find.</p><p>Having tracked the women at a distance, staying out of sight, the knights were not moving particularly quickly, nor were they expecting to see Sydney standing there as they emerged from the thick forest growth. "Looking for someone, gentlemen?" Sydney inquired with a smirk.</p><p>The knights were already drawing their weapons, but Sydney had his sword in hand. Let the Light these men professed to serve fall upon them, he thought as he raised it, speaking the words of command. A crossbow bolt was loosed in his direction, but incinerated midflight by the white-hot energy that engulfed Sydney's blade, then rushed outward towards its targets in a barrage of fireballs. It was almost a pity the battle was over so quickly, Sydney thought as he replaced the sword in its sheath, retrieving his cloak before moving on.</p><p>There would be more soon enough, though. The plight Branla and Kirrienne had faced was the result of no singular chance encounter; there were more knights prowling the forest off the roads from there to Fentegel, perhaps engaging the small groups in some skirmish to diminish their threat before following. And he, with the assistance of the gods and the talents given him by the Dark, was well-equipped to find and rescue them. Even had he not had confidence in his power to do so, he was obligated - for the brethren and the refugees from the burned village were being hunted largely in an attempt to capture <em>him</em>.</p><p>And this was why, Sydney thought idly as he hurried on, again in the direction he seemed to be drawn. This was why he could not indulge in vain mortal affairs, why he could not choose a singularly important partner. It was a vulnerability through which he might be compromised, and the partner in question would always be in danger nearly so great. What if in some way the Blades found out, and hunted Hardin in particular in an attempt to gain leverage? The thought made Sydney's vision go dim with rage, thus proving his point.</p><p>By the grace of the gods, the next small party Sydney encountered in the forest included Kermiak and Duncan, and their group had lost no one, despite the rest of their party being refugees from Fentegel. Upon realizing they were being pursued the day before, Duncan had drawn the knights out a few at a time with his illusions so that Kermiak could pick them off. With only two remaining from the squadron of knights after a few hours of this, they were no longer being followed. It was not only a relief that they were all safe, and not being chased - but Kermiak was an accomplished tracker. With him present, the others could follow behind Sydney well out of sight without fear of losing his trail. Truly it was the gods' providence, and Sydney offered silent, grateful prayers as he moved on.</p><p>The sun was beginning to set, and Sydney's certainty about his path forward was beginning to wane, when the Dark's whispers told him of another small squadron of knights ahead - none of his brethren, so perhaps merely looking for their fallen fellows, or sent as reinforcements. Sydney turned back to inform the others, told them to wait, and went out to meet them alone. Again, he showed himself first. Again, they drew their weapons at the sight of him. They had had their chance to leave peacefully, they did not take it, and therefore Sydney dispatched them. </p><p>The refugees from Fentegel were unaccustomed to travel, let alone pursuit, and Kermiak recommended when Sydney returned that perhaps they should stop for the night. Sydney shook his head, for in the moments before he had confronted the last squadron of knights, he had seen in their hearts that not long past they had separated from another larger group. The other party had been tracking more "heretics", who had headed north, and therefore Sydney must also; it did not seem wise to separate at length again.</p><p>He located the knights before their prey, and plotted a course to intercept. Kermiak and the others could go after their brethren, he decided, while he removed the threat to all, and then he would join them. Then, gods willing, they could rest for the night, for the light was failing.</p><p>It seemed likely they would have little choice but to stop for the night, when the knights drew close enough to where Sydney waited that he could read their hearts. The reason they had separated from the rest of their party, it turned out, was because they had cut down "the swordsman" already, and considered those who remained of the party they followed to be no threat. In this case, they never saw Sydney before the magic engulfed them, burning as hot as Sydney's anger. First Jared and Theonas - who else had he lost to them?</p><p>He got his answer upon catching up with those he had sent ahead. In the dying light, Kermiak had taken the initiative to scout a place that might be suitable for a night's rest, though not the liberty of making camp without Sydney's permission. Those whom he had accompanied were seated among the brush, tired and somber, alongside three more exhausted villagers and... it was Duncan who had his arm around Marie, letting the woman rest her head wearily upon his shoulder, not Jonas. Sydney sat down beside them both, offering his own reassurance. Marie could only have done so much with her spells, she had done well to protect those who were helpless among them, and Jonas had surely entered into his reward.</p><p>And yes, it was definitely time for all of them to have a bite of whatever rations remained, and then sleep, save for himself.</p><p>But perhaps save for one other as well - William, one of the men among Fentegel's refugees, approached him after he had given the word. "...Milord," he addressed Sydney quietly, where he had remained off to the side, overlooking their campsite for the night. "If you require a watchman..."</p><p>Sydney shook his head, smiling kindly at the man. "I intend to keep watch myself, but I appreciate your offer. You have been through so much - go now, and rest. I promise, I will keep your kinsmen safe."</p><p>"...About that." William was one of those who had raged against Sydney, after his role in the burning of Fentegel, but clearly he had had a change of heart, for his voice and mannerisms were now subdued. "I apologize for my words, when last we met. Even then, I knew you were not at fault, but those who were had gone - and you had come."</p><p>Sydney simply nodded. "I took no offense," he assured William. In truth, his anger had only been an echo of Sydney's own anger at himself. "It is true that if we had never come to you, your hometown and your friends and family would still be untouched."</p><p>"And yet, even after that, you fed us from what little you had. Your own man died protecting us," said William. "If anything, we owe you a great debt. I cannot speak for everyone among us, but if there is something I myself can do..."</p><p>Sydney was shaking his head slowly. "All I wish for you to do now is rest, and recover your strength," he replied. "My brethren owed you and yours much to begin with for accepting us among you, even before this tragedy."</p><p>"Even if it were so, it would not be worth the lives of your people," William observed. "I understand now why so many have been moved to leave their homes and follow you." He hesitated for a moment. "...As I no longer have a home, I think I may wish to do likewise."</p><p>Sydney sighed faintly, rested a hand on the man's shoulder. "William... if you wish to become one of us, I would gladly welcome you," he said honestly. "But let us wait until this trouble has passed, and your thoughts have settled. Everything is a bit confusing, right now. I know you are lost, seeking purpose. But ours is a difficult path, not to be chosen lightly. Perhaps you <em>will</em> find what you need within the fellowship of Müllenkamp," he acknowledged, "but perhaps you will find it elsewhere. Take some time, think upon it. If and when a time comes that you are certain, then we will be with you, and we will celebrate your choice."</p><p>William nodded. "I suppose you're right," he admitted. "Thank you, milord, for the listening ear, and the advice. I know you must have much on your mind as it is."</p><p>"If I might help you find peace," Sydney replied, "it is no trouble at all." That was the truth.</p><p>Kermiak had been standing a short distance off, Sydney noted as William departed - possibly in case there was trouble, for it was he who had first witnessed William's anger upon greeting the survivors. "No need for concern," Sydney assured him, as he came to stand with Sydney. "In fact, he volunteered for the watch - and I denied him, as I would prefer to deny you."</p><p>Kermiak smiled slightly, without real humor. The events since leaving Leá Monde had left them all without much cause for cheer. "There, you have already answered two of the reasons I came to speak with you. But there is a third: I did not think to ask earlier, and then we had little time... Did Hardin not go with you?"</p><p>"He did," Sydney replied. Come to think of it, it <em>was</em> unusual that it had taken so long for either Kermiak or Duncan to ask, but they had, as Kermiak said, all been occupied with other concerns. ...And now that he was about to reassure Kermiak that Hardin was safe, he realized he had more to fill him in on. "This afternoon I had a premonition - it led me to find Branla and Kirrienne alone. The Blades have taken Jared and Theonas from us as well as Jonas." Kermiak drew a deep, heavy sigh, but Sydney continued. "I asked Hardin to stay with the two women while they rested, for they had been fleeing on their own since, too weary for spells."</p><p>Kermiak nodded, and remained in silence a bit longer, letting the news sink in, paying silent and solitary tribute to his fallen brothers. "So they will catch up with us?" he asked. "Or shall we turn back and join with them?"</p><p>"We will return to them once we've gathered the rest of our brethren," said Sydney. Already he was beginning to think that it may not have been the best option, considering that everyone he had found so far had been so exhausted, some mourning. It might wind up taking longer than the few days he had suggested, if he was to keep everyone close so that he might protect them. They were not far from Fentegel, after how far he and Hardin had come, as well as the distance he'd walked since separating, so the brethren <em>should</em> have all been within another day's travel... but they had been chased. It might take longer to find a few of them if that was the case - but surely Hardin could hold on another day or so, if that was how it was to be. His safety was almost assured. </p><p>...Almost. Hardin had not, as of yet, made any vows - he was technically no more one of them than William - a well-intentioned man who might choose to leave at any time. And then what would Sydney's prophecy be worth?</p><p>"On second thought," Sydney said abruptly. "I may not refuse your offer of taking up the watch after all, should your thoughts not already have turned to longing for your blankets." </p><p>"I don't expect there to be trouble overnight," Kermiak agreed. "Even if the knights were still about, we won't be doing anything to attract their attention. It should be as easy as staying awake. ...I take it you intend to be doing something else?"</p><p>"Gods willing," Sydney replied, "I might take advantage of this lapse in the knights' activities to find more of our brothers and sisters and bring them back. If the knights actively seek us, it matters not how obvious we may make our presence - and I would offer my protection to as many as possible, as soon as possible."</p><p>Kermiak nodded seriously, the two of them looking out over the few who were already gathered, settling down for the evening among the brush and brambles. "...I will take care of them until you return."</p><p>"It shouldn't be necessary for long," Sydney said. "I doubt the Blades have decided to simply give up overnight, so I shall be back near dawn, so that we can move on together."</p><p>It was not impossible that the Blades would abandon their hunt by the morrow, Sydney supposed, but not terribly likely. Either the gods would aid him in finding more of the brethren, or they would not, and he would return by dawn with or without anyone else in tow - unless at the lightening of the sky, there was someone else nearby he might also retrieve before returning. </p><p>He hoped, if he was to find anyone at all, that he might find them soon. Away from the others, away from the imminent threat of confrontation with the knights, walking through a dark, quiet forest? Sydney found he was more tired than he had realized. He had, after all, slept only a few hours before being startled awake, and he had been on the move ever since. Occasionally casting spells - nothing terribly taxing for someone with his ability, but still an expenditure of energy - and after very little food or drink.</p><p>But then, he reminded himself firmly once more that he was the high priest, Müllenkamp's chosen, blessed by the gods with limbs that would not tire and flesh that would not fail. If he was tired, if he was hungry, what did it matter? Beyond the unpleasant sensations, it could not kill him - and for what other reason had he been gifted immortality but to protect those who had not, those whose lives the gods had entrusted to him? </p><p>When they moved on tomorrow, in the daylight, he might be able to scavenge some of the medicinal herbs he knew to ease some of the unpleasantness and keep him alert as needed. In the meantime, he would persist as was required of him. Standing there alone in the woods, lit only by the barest traces of starlight, he closed his eyes, lifted his face to the heavens, and listened, focused. Unconsciously, his hands raised as well in petition...</p><p>He did not sense anyone's presence within range, but he did feel a sort of tug in his mind, causing his head to turn just slightly. Well then, he thought - that was where he would go, though one direction seemed much the same as any other when he looked with his eyes. </p><p>Sydney kept reexamining that slight pulling sensation as he set out, making sure it stayed fixed in his mind as he picked his way through the darkness, over the uneven ground and fallen branches that caused him to tread carefully. Conveniently, it kept him from thinking of much else. At last it resolved into something more certain, the familiar call of Dark to Dark; one or more of his brethren in the distance. He breathed a cautious sigh of relief, for the gods had led him true, but there was still the question of whether any were missing.</p><p>He found them huddled in the bushes much the same as those he had left with Kermiak, alarmed by the approaching footsteps until he called out to them quietly. This time, all were present, and young Sara, one of Müllenkamp's newest children, cried in his arms only in relief.</p><p>Again Sydney closed his eyes and listened as they got to their feet around him, and again came that subtle tugging he had felt. He followed it without hesitation, now with the others following just behind, until it too resolved into familiarity. Another mixed group this time, both brethren and refugees... and not as fortunate as the first he had found. Fanella had done her best to defend the group with her magic, but had far exceeded her spellcasting ability; she'd been left disoriented and defenseless, but no one had realized until they tried to fall back and... she merely fell.</p><p>It was not only for Fanella's sacrifice that Sydney bowed his head, leading them all in a moment of silence before moving on. She made four... how many more might there be that they would never see again? He offered words of comfort, a reassuring touch, and a calm demeanor, but his heart was filled with dread.</p><p>His time could be spent on more productive things than worry - things that might save them from further grief. Though he felt as if he'd been walking forever, the stars showed that they still had a few hours before dawn, more than enough time to return even at the slow pace of those who had been running and hiding for far too long. When Sydney felt that tugging sensation again, though it seemed so much more distant than before, he obeyed; the gods had directed his path without fail thus far.</p><p>Dark as it was, Sydney had merely given the task of navigation over to them without trying to discern where precisely he was being led, and thus was somewhat surprised when ahead he recognized a clean break in the trees ahead - a road. Not one of the main highways between regions, but with the knights in the area, surely his brethren knew better than to travel in the open? Or even so close, for the knights on this campaign might have patrolled the roads even at night... but yes, he was certain - just past the break in the trees, on the far side, a short distance west. </p><p>He sensed no one else nearby but for that sense of others who had been baptized into the Dark, so it seemed safe enough, but still very unusual. None among them would have thought to set an ambush for the knights along the road, or so he hoped - the Blades could always send in reinforcements, while Müllenkamp was scattered. Perhaps these among his brethren had been fortunate enough to have not yet crossed paths with the Blades, and did not know the roads were not safe. Or perhaps something else unusual was happening. Having paused, which had caused those with him to pause as well, he turned back and asked the others to stay where they were for the time being, and rest - he would go himself and bring their kin back to them.</p><p>Sydney on his own had no reason to be wary of even the most hostile roads even by day, of course, and so when he reached the road, he followed it west as he had sensed, until he felt his brethren close at hand. Only two, and his heart sank again as he plunged into the heavy underbrush once more in search of them.</p><p>Fortunately the thick forest growth thinned out considerably a short way in, making his movement much easier and quicker as he made his way closer. He did not have far yet to go when suddenly there was a crashing sound, as if something much larger than a man, or even two men, was thrashing about - and he stilled instinctively. A pity that Hardin was not here with him; his scrying would have shed some light on what was happening up ahead. Not a battle, certainly, and if those ahead of him were under attack by some beast, he would have sensed more than the mild feeling of surprise... and then, before he had thought the situation through any further, the commotion ceased.</p><p>Whatever all the noise might have been, it was highly unlikely to be dangerous to him. In fact, very little was, Sydney thought wryly as he continued on his way, more slowly and quietly than before, then paused again. In the distance, approximately where the disturbance had happened, an answer, albeit odd, presented itself as a horse neighed. ...Sydney thought he understood now, and if not for the knowledge that only two of his kin lay ahead, he might have smiled.</p><p>Indeed, when he came close enough to see two horses peering out over a cluster of bushes, they were joined by the familiar face he most expected. "Ah - it is! Sydney, we're over here!" Domenic called quietly. </p><p>As if he could not tell - but Domenic was young, excitable, and Sydney smiled in spite of himself as he made his way over to greet him. "I'm relieved to see you well," he said, taking the boy in a gentle embrace for a moment, then growing more serious. "What of the others who were with you?"</p><p>Domenic sobered quickly as well. "The Blades crossed our path, I believe two or three days ago, while we were still with the cart..."</p><p>It was as Sydney had feared then. "They have been chasing all our brethren, unfortunately," he said softly. "I have been trying to gather everyone while I can."</p><p>"Yes, that's how it happened," Domenic said with a nod, and brightened somewhat. "Those in our group were halted by them, and we knew we had little chance to survive - but then Zachary, Hector, and Gabriella appeared from the forest, and together we managed to defeat the knights."</p><p>From his telling, it sounded like there had been no losses. "...Then where are the others?"</p><p>"Zachary's party intended to head west, to find and assist others who did not have so many fighters and mages," Domenic reported. "It was decided we might as well leave the cart and take to the cover of the forests - there was not much left on it anyhow, and what might be useful, we packed on the horses. But the horses have always pulled carts, they are uncertain of the rough ground here in the forest, and so we would have been slowing everyone else down."</p><p>"We told Marcus and Juliette to go with Zachary," spoke up another voice, as another familiar figure was now making his way through the bushes from beyond the horses. "But you know Domenic - he would not have left the horses. And though he can manage them on his own, I would not leave him without another set of arms to hold the reins."</p><p>Sydney found himself grinning, and turned to greet Aiden with an embrace as well, and a brief kiss. "It seems to have worked out well enough," Sydney observed. "You both seem in good spirits, and rested more than many of those I have found thus far."</p><p>"The horses like us," Domenic said simply. He would know - his talent was to speak with animals, and he had taken particularly well to the horses. "They were more than willing to share the watch."</p><p>Sydney allowed himself to laugh, just a little bit. He was so relieved, and so tired... and Aiden's arms around him made him wish he could simply stay for a moment, resting against him. ...If it were Hardin, he could have without it seeming so unusual, he thought idly, sobering at the thought. But it was not - Aiden and Domenic needed a strong, firm leader. "If both you and the horses are rested enough, we might return to the road for a time," he suggested, drawing back to address the two of them. "I have spent the night in search of our brethren, and a few more wait for us in the forest beyond. Between the hour and my own abilities, not to mention our numbers, we should be safe enough traveling in the open - still more of us are resting in the forest to the northwest, and I told them I would return by dawn. It will be easier with horses - some of those I have found are weary. If they are not too burdened already...?"</p><p>Domenic shook his head. "There was very little remaining for them to bear, to be honest," Aiden admitted.</p><p>"It is just as well," Sydney supposed, "if it means that some can ride rather than walk. Come - there are many who will be as glad to see you as I am, and perhaps we may find more yet on our way back."</p><p>He still sensed no one else near, so as Domenic and Aiden untied the horses to lead them cautiously through the forest, Sydney returned to those who waited, informing them of what he had found and leading them out to the road. Those who were lacking in strength were helped up onto the horses, and then they were ready to set out.</p><p>The sun would be rising soon, Sydney thought upon getting a good look at the more open sky above the road. It was time to return to those he had left under Kermiak's watch, and so they started westward to begin; the others were a ways north into the woods, but they could make good time on the road before being forced to turn off. Despite his exhaustion, and the knowledge that at least four of his brethren had been lost - he knew his mind had not yet been able to fully comprehend it, and under the circumstances he was glad - he had found ten. Ten who were now safe with him, two more safe with Hardin, or so he hoped. Kermiak was watching over seven others... But there were still at least four he would not find.</p><p>Sydney was doing the calculations in his head - how many were still unaccounted for, and which - when he felt another of the subtle tugging sensations, drawing his attention to the north. By no means would he ignore the gods' direction after they had led him so faithfully throughout the night, so after once again examining the surrounding area and sensing no one but those he accompanied, he told them to continue on down the road. He would catch up before they would need to change course, possibly adding to their number.</p><p>Back into the forest he went, following the sensation within his heart that he was being pulled, or perhaps prodded. Something was different this time, however. Although he felt where he was being led quite plainly, and it did not seem far off, he did not sense any of his followers ahead. Nor had he sensed anyone else, hostile or otherwise. He walked on, curious, and growing uneasy. If the gods were not leading him to his brethren, or those who posed a threat to them... what were they leading him to, that they would take him away from those he had gathered over the course of the night?</p><p>He still sensed no one when the urgings within his heart ceased, and he stopped in the midst of the woods, silent and perfectly still but for the breeze through the leaves and the earliest birdsong.  It would have been quite tranquil, he thought, but for his growing uneasiness. Surely the gods had not meant to draw him away from the others for something so indulgent, if pleasant, as a moment of peace...?</p><p>...No, they had not. As the breeze turned, the Dark awoke within him at the scent of blood that it carried.</p><p>Though the sky might have been lightening to the east, among the trees it was no help. Sydney <em>needed</em> to know why he was here, what he was meant to see, and so he broke a few twigs off the nearest bush; though green, he could light the tips with only a spark of his magic.</p><p>In the faint, flickering light, he found a corpse lying only a few paces in front of him.</p><p>His breath caught, though immediately he recognized that it could not be one of the brethren for... obvious reasons. He knelt to examine the body, a woman killed perhaps a day past, run through by a sword. He did not know all the faces of the refugees from Fentegel, but the worn attire of a simple style suggested that it was very likely she had been one of them.</p><p>Echoes of the past arose in his mind, the Dark offering the sounds of swords clashing and the roar of magic without his asking, and he rose again, holding the small makeshift torch. More bodies lay at the edge of the flame's glow - some were knights, some were peasants. He might have looked more thoroughly, but he knew he would not find Dorian and Miklaus.</p><p>Sydney was <em>so</em> tired, body and soul. He could feel the grief and the anger welling up within... but he simply turned away, let the flame flicker out, and hastened to return to the road.</p><p>It was Aiden who spotted him first, walking at the rear behind the horses. He raised his hand in greeting, falling back a bit to walk with Sydney as he caught up. "What was it?" he asked.</p><p>Sydney was not sure he could speak. If he did, all the grief and anger might spill over. And he could not let that happen, not in front of Aiden, close as they were, nor any of the other brethren. He dared not even meet Aiden's eyes, but kept his gaze on the road ahead as he managed to reply. "It was nothing." ...It was not exactly a lie. He would tell them later, when he could inform everyone at once. Possibly much later, when he was certain he knew who they were missing in total.</p><p>Tears sprung to his eyes in spite of himself, but he willed them away.</p><p>He sensed nothing else unusual or urgent as they continued on the road to the west, the stars fading from the sky behind them, and then turned into the forest to the north. Sydney had to walk at the front now, to search for Kermiak's presence and those who stayed with him - and found it easily after only a short time, strong enough to correct their course.</p><p>As he had predicted, he was greeted joyfully upon his return by Kermiak and the few others who woke at the sounds of their approach or had been unable to remain asleep. The brethren were happy to be reunited with at least these among their kin, the villagers were glad to see friends and neighbors safe. Sydney stood by, watching them embrace one another and exchange quiet greetings. His face held a calm, satisfied smile, but his heart felt like a stone.</p><p>Kermiak was the first to finally approach him as he stood apart. "I had no regrets about staying awake a mite longer," he remarked, "but I can't say I'm not glad to see that it was worth it."</p><p>True enough, but Kermiak was clearly exhausted, even his impressive stamina depleted after so long. "Indeed, and I am grateful," Sydney told him. "Now go on and sleep. Aiden and Domenic are both well-rested - have them keep watch for a few hours, until we move on again."</p><p>Kermiak nodded. "Of course, I'll tell them. ...And you?" he asked, as Sydney turned away from their temporary camp. "You're not sleeping?"</p><p>"I may." Sydney wasn't sure how possible it was. "First, I have something else I must see to. Unless there is some sort of trouble, I would prefer no interruptions."</p><p>"I'll let them know that as well," Kermiak agreed.</p><p>Kermiak probably assumed he was going to speak with the gods, Sydney thought, or divine something about the situation. They all trusted him so completely. He was so strong, so wise, so good. He could protect them, always - and if one of them were to fall, then surely it was only part of the gods' great plan, to serve some purpose they could not yet see.</p><p>Sydney walked some distance from the others, until he was well out of range of their hearing, and several clusters of trees blocking them from view. Then, <em>finally</em>, he could permit himself to do as he had wanted to do since he had found himself standing in the woods alone, lit by only the light of a small flame.</p><p>He sank to his knees, let his fists strike the earth in impotent fury as he cried silently, anguished. High priest and immortal oracle he was, but he <em>was</em> still a man and felt the loss as much as any other. Perhaps more - those who had died were under his care, they had trusted in his power and his authority, and he had been unable to protect them. He knew what he would say to anyone else who might have found themselves in the same situation, the same words about free will and the nature of man, that those martyred in service to the gods would receive their reward, and he truly believed them - but much as Hardin had said the day they lost Padric, wisdom did not bring the dead back to join the living who would miss them.</p><p>Kneeling there, curled up and head bowed nearly to the earth as he let himself cry, it was perhaps impossible to <em>not</em> think of Hardin. Hardin would have stood by and borne witness to Sydney's pain. He would not begin to doubt, he would not judge - he would only consider it a blessing and a privilege to be allowed such intimacy. He would, no doubt, try to reach out to comfort him, though Sydney had so violently discouraged it in the past. At this time, Sydney thought he would have welcomed it. To be able to simply rest against Hardin's shoulder until his pain had spent itself, as when Hardin had held him that night at the duke's manor... or the day he had held Hardin much the same way.</p><p>But it was not to be. Not now. It was selfish to even think about it when he had so much yet to do. When Sydney's grief and frustrations were spent, he splashed some water on his face from the skin he carried, wiping any traces of tears away the best he could before settling himself against the base of a tree, closing his eyes to rest them for a few minutes before he returned to the others.</p><p>The darkness was warmer when he opened them again, flickering with a golden glow. Likewise, something warmer than the tree was behind him - warm, soft, stroking him gently. Sydney leaned his head back with a sigh... and only realized that this was an unusual situation when he glanced down to the hand upon his arm and found it to be small, delicate, adorned with gold. Not to mention slightly transparent...</p><p>He could just imagine the smile of amusement on her lips, for he could hear it in her unspoken words. <i>Are you disappointed?</i></p><p>Sydney was mildly annoyed that he actually had to consider the question before answering - and then, after having considered, he was mildly annoyed that she would know if he gave her a dishonest answer. "I am <em>relieved</em>."</p><p>
  <i>Ah, yes and no. So seldom have you found clear answers to your questions in recent days.</i>
</p><p>That was very true. "...Why had you not come to me?" He hated that it sounded so needy, but... well, she would not despise him for his weakness either, and his mind <em>had</em> been greatly troubled.</p><p>
  <i>Because you did not need me.</i>
</p><p>"How can you say that?" The idea that she would think such a thing left him wounded, and somewhat alarmed. "I always value your guidance - I have prayed to our gods for counsel."</p><p>Her arms slipped around him to hold him more completely. <i>You have said it yourself. At times, the gods answer prayers through the acts of willing men.</i></p><p>He did not reply, but only considered her words, and the meaning they held. ...When he'd thought to himself that they had sent him John Hardin instead of Müllenkamp, that had been <em>sarcasm</em>.</p><p><i>I shall always be here to guide you, my dear friend, at such a time as you need me,</i> she assured him. <i>But you have needs I cannot provide.</i></p><p>Sydney sighed, shifting a bit in her arms. Her touch was like the sight of her, real and unmistakable, but not quite all there. "You're doing well enough now."</p><p>One hand reached up, stroking his hair fondly. <i>Well enough, perhaps... but I am not the one you wished for.</i></p><p>That also was true. And since he could not hide his thoughts from her - "...Is he well? And those with him? I... have reason to believe that he will be safe, but I don't know how much has yet been set in stone."</p><p><i>He and the ones you left in his care are being tracked and chased, as all my children are,</i> she confirmed, with sadness in her voice. <i>Very little about his future is certain as of yet - but he is very clever.</i></p><p>That should have been good news, except for one small problem. "So the future I have seen is not certain?"</p><p>She shook her head, the ornaments in her hair tinkling faintly. <i>All things remain possible.</i></p><p>...Which meant that Hardin could die. Sooner, rather than later.</p><p>Of course she heard the thought. <i>As I said, he is very clever - and his soul is steadfast. If he puts his trust in the gods, they will answer.</i></p><p>But Hardin was new in his faith, his knowledge of the gods very limited, with little reason to trust. Then again, hearing the Lady speak of Hardin and faith reminded him of something. "...By the way, Lady... <em>palidas</em>?"</p><p>
  <i>With all you have seen of him thus far, are you surprised?</i>
</p><p>Honestly? "No."</p><p><i>Then trust in him to handle the tasks he has been given,</i> she told him. <i>All of them. It is not in his best interest or yours, little rabbit, to flee.</i></p><p>That was puzzling. "I don't expect you would care to explain?"</p><p>
  <i>I can't leave you without some riddle to solve, can I?</i>
</p><p>"...I suppose not." And her words implied that their conversation was nearly over, and he would wake soon. Despite the new uncertainties it had raised, he <em>did</em> feel a bit better now, more calm, and he reached up to place his hands over hers. "Thank you, Lady."</p><p>He blinked in the sudden daylight through the trees overhead, the chill of the wind through his cloak, the roughness of the bark against which his head rested. ...He supposed this meant it was time to return to his brethren, and see if everyone was ready to move on. There were more of their companions in need of help - and after speaking with their Lady, Sydney felt much better equipped to provide it.</p><p>-----</p><p>As he had previously estimated, Sydney was already close to the area where he had planned to find the scattered small groups within a day or so. Many he had not already found were likely nearby, and those who might have gone out further in search of some manner of good fortune in his absence were on their way back. It simply made sense to continue on to the east, though he had managed to find some of those most immediately in that direction overnight; they might have faced danger in the morning had he not brought them back in the night, so it was not wasted effort.</p><p>He also had the tip from Domenic and Aiden that the fighter and the mage in their group had joined with another party and headed north to do much the same as Sydney was doing now, and so he angled their route slightly northward in hopes of intercepting them. This led them deeper into the forest, and the travel was slower, but better to take that route now, while there were fewer with him to stumble or tire.</p><p>As before, Sydney walked ahead of the group, out of visual range, and trusted Kermiak to follow his trail. He alone could handle the small squadrons the knights were sending out to dispatch the lesser-equipped small bands of Sydney's followers... and after the incident on the way back, Sydney would rather be alone if he was to be led by the gods to any further discoveries.</p><p>The first such discovery he made, however, was more encouraging than troubling. Two bodies clad in dyed leather armor, both badly burned. The Dark laughed, but provided no further comment. Sydney took that to be a good omen, and turned back to inform Kermiak and make a slight alteration to their course; the others among them need not see the gruesome sight.</p><p>He caught up with the rest of the squadron a short time later, and having sensed them in advance, did not try to hide the sound of his movements when he drew close. As intended, the knight at the rear turned back upon hearing someone coming up behind them, and immediately sounded the alarm. Stopping to face him meant those they had been pursuing were safe - and though another crossbow bolt came uncomfortably close to hitting its mark, the entire squadron was reunited with their fallen brothers quickly enough. Immediately Sydney could sense his fleeing brethren ahead, and rushed to catch up with them; better to retrieve them quickly than to tell Kermiak to again change course to avoid the battle's aftermath, especially when he would surely recognize what the scene meant.</p><p>Just as he had hoped, he had once again been led true, and upon turning with sword and spell at the ready, Carlos and Ivette were instead overjoyed to see who now pursued them. They had been protecting two of the villagers, who had gone on ahead - along with two more that they had stumbled upon helpless and alone, after those who had been tasked with protecting them had been slain. Sydney's relief turned to despair once more, but he did not allow it to touch his expression or his voice as he bid them wait for Kermiak, while he went after the villagers that were unaware their pursuers had been vanquished.</p><p>The rest of the day unfolded much the same. Neither joy nor sadness lasted long, for while the number of those gathered together grew, so did the number of those who had been lost. By afternoon, they had gone far enough east and north that Sydney turned them south, making for the hills near Fentegel where he had instructed everyone to meet. At some point, the knights must have discovered that they were now less hunter than hunted, or perhaps recognized that their true prey was nearby; the smaller squads had banded together, making them more dangerous but also easier to avoid. They still posed no serious threat to Sydney, but the odds of an injury getting through that might slow him down caused him to forego the formalities of showing himself first and giving them the option of surrender. It was no secret what their objective was, and he dared not risk more of his brethren's lives by allowing them to leave unharmed. Ten of his followers had fallen that he knew of now, and at least six of the villagers they had been trying to protect.</p><p>The number of those with him had tripled by nightfall, and included enough fighters and mages that they could likely fend for themselves in Sydney's absence, as well as many who had rested the previous night and could stand watch. Still more remained to be found, however, and again Sydney left them at dusk, when the knights were less likely to be about.</p><p>The search this time was somewhat less uncomfortable, for while Sydney had been led by the gods or his talent, he had kept one eye on the ground for some of the herbs he had learned - those whose leaves and stems contained a sap that helped one remain alert, those whose roots opened the mind wider to the powers of the Dark. The roots he had slipped into a pocket to be used as needed, the leaves he had crushed and shredded with his claws before adding them to the waterskin from which he had been drinking all day. As he was more aware and more capable of discerning the gods' direction, as well as being near where they had intended to meet, Sydney found great success, and returned with another dozen as the sky began to grow light.</p><p>Far too many were still missing, though, and after another few hours of sleep for Sydney and those who had kept watch, the much larger assembly moved on. Sydney had now gone over the general area where they had intended to meet, and gathered up any who were close enough for him to sense them, but perhaps others had fled west in the direction that Sydney and Hardin had set out - and so reluctantly, Sydney made the decision to start heading back. Keeping to the cover of the forest meant that although they passed by where the cart had been left, they could not take it with them; it was unfortunate, but given how much coin Sydney might receive for the duke's gemstones, they might buy another if the situation ever calmed to the point that it was safe for them to travel the roads again. After all, he had given them enough wealth to support them through the summer... and they now had fewer mouths to feed.</p><p>Sydney loathed himself for being able to even consider that there was a silver lining to any of this, but it <em>was</em> his responsibility to watch over Müllenkamp's beloved children. He had little choice but to weigh all the options, do the cold calculations required to determine the best course of action. Anything he <em>felt</em> about the circumstances would have to wait.</p><p>Possibly longer than he expected, for with so many in tow, even with the assistance of the horses, they moved much more slowly than he had moved alone, or with the first few he had recovered. He would not leave them alone, though, and thus it could not be helped - he would not likely reach the area where he had left Hardin until the day after next at least, not accounting for any instances where he might have to change course to reclaim more of the brethren.</p><p>And when he did, then what? With the possibility close at hand, Sydney found his mind drifting when it was not otherwise occupied with listening for direction, or occasionally doing away with whatever unlucky Crimson Blades wandered too close. Very little was as of yet predetermined, Müllenkamp had said, including Hardin's fate, presumably because he had not yet chosen to formally join with them. And he might not, seeing as he had been rather angry at Sydney at their parting. He had a right to be, Sydney thought - but then, he'd angered Hardin several times before, and somehow they not only put it behind them, but kept growing closer...</p><p>But that was not to be. He dared not risk himself <em>or</em> Hardin, or anyone else who may come along after Hardin, by allowing such vulnerability, singling one out among the others. His responsibility was to those who followed him - all of them. And even if Sydney had been willing to risk it, Hardin deserved better than half a man, particularly when that half a man was so broken, having been smothered his whole life. First by the circumstances of his youth, then by the position into which he had disappeared.</p><p>He found himself with more time to consider the matter that night, for although he had again supplemented his waterskin with the herbs in hopes of remaining awake for another solitary search, it seemed that there was no one and nothing nearby that the gods wished to show him. Though he quieted his heart and waited, praying that the gods would lead him to the brethren who still were not among them - for there were many - he did not feel the sensation that had guided his path on the previous nights. </p><p>As he was not going to be able to sleep, and a watch had been set, he simply walked, wandering the woods nearby. If his footsteps took him towards the west, it was not the gods' guidance, but likely his own thoughts directing them.</p><p>...When he found Hardin again, it wouldn't matter. He could not let his guard down, he could not let Hardin in. If necessary, he must be cruel - for the path Sydney walked was a difficult one, and in Hardin's case, seemingly would lead to an early grave. After all he had already endured, he should find peace and contentment somewhere. He would certainly not find it with Müllenkamp - and even less so if his infatuation with Sydney remained, for it must be unrequited.</p><p>And that was if he even survived to meet them again, since the Lady herself had confirmed that his fate was not yet written.</p><p>Sydney sighed heavily, and stopped walking. Though his mind and his body were alert enough, and his limbs did not tire, his very soul was weary. He reached out to the young tree beside which he had halted, holding on at the crook of one of its slender branches - just to touch something. Just to have something to lean upon for a moment. Despite all of his arguments in favor of sending Hardin away when next they met, in truth he wished very badly that Hardin were with him - or at the very least that he had Hardin's gift, and could look upon him, to know that he remained safe. <i>Please... let him be safe. Let me know, somehow, if it pleases You to grant my request...</i></p><p>...He did not expect his silent prayer to be answered, and yet moments later, he could have sworn he sensed Hardin's presence.</p><p>Sydney was certain he was alone in the woods - he had sensed no one but those who remained at the campsite in all the time he'd been walking - and it still did not feel exactly as if Hardin were nearby, but... much like during their exercises in Leá Monde, when he had been testing Hardin's ability, and he could see and sense Hardin's spirit. He'd come to believe it was not possible ordinarily, that he could only discern Hardin's scrying within Leá Monde because the intensity of the Dark within the city strengthened his talents, but he might have been mistaken. And then, surely Hardin could not be scrying him, for the area where he'd left Hardin was more than a day's journey onward at their current pace. He was strong in the Dark, yes, but...</p><p>He might have thought he was imagining things, maybe even hallucinating after too little sleep and too much of the herbs that were keeping him awake, except that he very distinctly felt it when that sense of Hardin's spirit vanished, leaving him wondering what had just happened.</p><p>As he pondered it, the words Müllenkamp had spoken in his dream returned to him. <i>If he puts his trust in the gods, they will answer.</i> Just as Branla's prayers had been passed along to him within a dream a few days past... perhaps Hardin had been permitted to see him when he asked? ...Perhaps it was the answer to his own prayer, that he could know for certain that Hardin was alive and well?</p><p>Perhaps, he thought, they were both awake at this late hour, unwittingly praying to the same gods for the same thing.</p><p>In spite of all his arguments and his determination, the thought gave Sydney a feeling of peace, and he closed his eyes, relishing it, before turning back towards the camp. It was enough to let him sleep - not as soundly as he had slept within Hardin's arms, but true sleep for the first time since they'd parted.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The peace that Sydney had found from that strange not-quite-visitation by Hardin did not last much longer than his sleep. With the rising of the sun, the Blades returned to their hunt, and Sydney sensed them drawing near to the brethren's makeshift campsite before everyone had awoken. To the west, in the direction they were headed - the same direction his feet had taken him the previous night - and Sydney instructed his followers to prepare everyone to leave quickly. He would deal with the knights while they made ready.</p><p>It was intriguing, though - upon heading in the direction of the knights, he found that they were not heading towards where the brethren had spent the night, but angling northwest. Trailing them silently through the woods, he stumbled across the reason why. Three knights lay dead, felled by swords. ...No other bodies did not mean there had been no further casualties, of course, and the Dark did seem to take a strange delight in the scene... </p><p>Tempting as it was to simply follow the knights to whoever might have been responsible, he had trustworthy trackers with him, not to mention the gods and the Dark. Much better to remove the threat, and after having done so, he returned to ask Kermiak and Duncan to walk with him as their party moved on in their wake, to see if they could make out the tracks the Blades had been following.</p><p>As always, Kermiak did not disappoint. "Whoever killed these fell back," he said, after examining the ground near the scene Sydney had first found. "The Blades don't hunt in packs of three. The rest of the squadron went this way, I suppose the ones you took down... but here, we also have someone in lighter attire - the one, or ones, that they were chasing. 'Tis hard to make out how many there might have been, with so many of the Blades' boots tramping about. Both yesterday, and then when this morning's patrol found them."</p><p>"As I expected," Sydney remarked, and started out upon the way he had followed the latest squadron. "Past what remains of that patrol, I also expect that we shall find clearer marks - marks that just may lead us to our friends."</p><p>Not soon, however. When Kermiak and Duncan got a better look at the tracks the knights had been following, it was clear they were from at the very least the previous morning. Still easily read by skilled trackers, though, and they gained more clues as the morning progressed. The turn of the foot, according to Kermiak, meant that two of those the knights had been chasing carried swords, three did not - there was very little chance that it could have been anyone <em>but</em> more of the brethren, though they were at too great a distance yet for Sydney to sense them.</p><p>Although he would not have been willing to admit it, and he loathed to do so even in his heart, Sydney was slightly torn. They had been traveling westward, a short ways north of the road, on their way back to where he had left Branla and Kirrienne in Hardin's care. The tracks they followed were leading them further north, deeper into the forest than he and Hardin had been. It was already likely to take them until the next day to find one another had he not turned aside, and might take even longer depending on where these tracks might lead, and for how long.</p><p>Hardin was strong, capable, and as Müllenkamp had reminded him, quite clever. Branla had her magic as well as another swordarm, Kirrienne knew some simple healing spells and was learned in herbology - the three of them were undoubtedly as resilient as any of the groups Sydney had assigned before leaving for the Graylands, he told himself. </p><p>...And yes, some of those groups had not managed to survive... Which was why they were following the tracks of others now. Whoever they were trailing at present was no less important. Also quicker than Sydney, as they did not need to concern themselves with a large contingent of followers, some of whom were not used to such travel, and horses who were wary of the uneven terrain.</p><p>They had still not caught up, and Sydney still sensed nothing ahead, when Kermiak observed something strange. It seemed that the knights had doubled back at some point ahead, and after doing so, headed off to the southwest, as there were similar tracks leading off that direction. Perhaps they had decided at dusk that it was better to give up the chase and head back to regroup with their fellows?</p><p>It mattered little to Sydney why the knights had turned back, as long as they were no longer chasing his brethren. Their focus was to be on where the other prints led, the ones that were lighter, which continued on northwest... and then suddenly split. Some of the footprints turned west, while others turned east - and the Blades had followed those who went east. </p><p>The sun was beginning to sink - they would not be able to track much longer. Sydney considered his options. It was not so dangerous any more, with so many of the brethren gathered together, to send them off alone; he bade Kermiak and Duncan head west, slowly and cautiously, after what seemed likely to be more of their kin or the villagers fleeing, while he himself followed the trail of the knights and those they chased. </p><p>Left to himself, Sydney covered ground quickly, and even he could trace the path left by a number of knights running through untamed forest growth. As it turned out, he did not have to do so for long; the trail of crushed grass and snapped branches led to another body, one of the Blades, amidst the site of what seemed to have been a great commotion. Only one, however... and that was when the Blades appeared to have turned around. It could have been that Sydney was simply not as skilled at tracking, and could not find the other prints going off in another direction as the light was fading, had the Dark not filled in the rest of the story for him.</p><p>He dared not linger to grieve even a moment; these two had successfully drawn the Blades away from their companions, late enough in the day that the knights had not been able to hunt them down again. Which meant that more of the brethren had lived. The rest of the party that he had sent off with Kermiak and Duncan were still close enough that he could sense them, and he turned back to join them again.</p><p>Kermiak turned to look as Sydney caught up, and he slowed down, giving him a questioning look. "Those whose trail we follow now were still alive and well as recently as last night, for the Blades abandoned their chase at dusk," Sydney informed him. "If they remained somewhere for the night, and they had the good fortune to avoid the knights' notice today, they must still live." As for those whose trail Sydney had followed... Kermiak nodded, and though he looked as if he wanted to ask, he remained silent as they moved to the front of the party again.</p><p>They could do little now, for the darkness was growing deeper and those with them grew weary. Sydney gave the order for them to halt and make camp, such as it was. Since he'd slept well for much of the previous night, he might again seek the gods' guidance in finding his lost brethren - but just as the night before, when he left the camp to stand in the quiet solitude of the forest, he felt no noticeable pull in any particular direction.</p><p>Perhaps it meant those they had been tracking were safe, and they would find one another on the morrow. Perhaps it meant that they were beyond rescue. Either way, without the gods' assistance, and with no one within range of his own ability, there was nothing Sydney could do but try to sleep.</p><p>...Perhaps it only meant that whatever tomorrow was to bring, he would need to be well-rested.</p><p>-----</p><p>In the morning, as the brethren and the refugees they'd taken in rose, making a small breakfast of some of the early fruits and herbs that had been scavenged along the previous day's journey, Kermiak came to Sydney to make certain he knew what was expected. "The trail is still clear enough to follow, now that it's light again," he reported. "Looks as though they were in a hurry."</p><p>"They did not know the Blades had given up," Sydney reasoned.</p><p>Kermiak nodded. "That was my thinking as well. So we follow, and give them a somewhat warmer reception?"</p><p>That was what Sydney had been pondering since he woke. "...No," he said finally.</p><p>"No?" It was not the answer Kermiak had been expecting.</p><p>It was not exactly what Sydney had been expecting either, as it made little sense. The tracks led west, which was the direction he had intended for them to go the day before. He'd left Hardin to the west, possibly southwest considering how far north they had come. It was not quite the tugging sensation that had guided him, nor did he sense anything. There was no reasonable explanation, but for the fact that he kept <em>thinking</em> it. "No," he repeated. "We will bear northwest."</p><p>Kermiak did not question, but merely nodded, and went to speak with Domenic about readying the horses. Sydney wished he trusted his own intuition and judgment as much as his followers did. The gods he could trust, of course - but sometimes he could not be entirely sure that he was hearing them, or the Dark, or only what he wanted to hear. It was strange, in fact - the vision of Hardin's death had come to him again in the night, but this time he found it comforting, for it meant it was still possible. It meant Hardin was, for the moment, still alive. <i>Please, let this be Your direction, Your will, and not my own confusion,</i> he prayed, raising his eyes to the cloudy skies above.</p><p>Even if, he acknowledged, his intention once they had found each other once more was to do something that likely contradicted their will, so long as fate had not yet been settled.</p><p>They set out shortly thereafter, just as Sydney had directed, yet by midday he found himself with more questions than answers. The knights were about again, hunting in larger groups, some with hounds. Perhaps they had followed the trail of their dead that Sydney had left behind and predicted his movements, for clearly they were seeking someone they expected to find in the area. It seemed unlikely they could have predicted Sydney's whereabouts, however, given that even <em>he</em> hadn't been sure where he was going until just before he set out. And then, if they'd thought to use hounds to track him, why had they not done so at their initial push to find and capture him? Furthermore, Sydney had sensed no one in the woods <em>but</em> the Blades. If he had been led in this direction against all rational sense, what was he being led to?</p><p>He was mostly not thinking about it, and instead wondering how long it might be before one of the knights' squadrons happened across their trail and begin to follow - it was strange that they hadn't yet, but he had no intention of complaining about it - when it happened again. The sense of Hardin's presence, almost right beside him, yet most definitely not present. It lasted only moments, then it was there no longer.</p><p>...Once again, Sydney didn't understand, but he was not going to question it. It seemed like a good omen.</p><p>Perhaps an hour later, they happened across another of the Blades' units close enough for Sydney to sense, moving northward ahead of them. It seemed likely they would intercept one another if they continued on their current courses, and so Sydney left the brethren again to move ahead and confront the threat. This time, he opted not to go alone. He knew better than to believe that the knights might be convinced to explain themselves, but many of them were using hounds - and he had someone who might be able to convince <em>them</em> to explain, in a manner of speaking. From past experience, he knew that a dog might have loyalty for a master, but a "master" was more than merely a man who held a leash.</p><p>He and Domenic managed to make their way ahead of the squadron and waited in the bushes until they could hear the rustling of the knights' passing in the distance. "Yes, they have hounds," Domenic reported, and his face softened. "They're curious about us, but they don't want to talk to me. They've been beaten and starved into obedience - they don't dare stray from their task, lest it happen again."</p><p>Their task, Sydney supposed, was tracking, and the question was what specifically they were trying to track, if not him or the brethren. If that were their objective, they should have been beset by knights all morning. "...What if we could ensure their safety?"</p><p>"It might work," Domenic whispered, as the sound of movement grew nearer. "But I don't think I can convince them. They just want to do their job and get their dinner - they want no trouble."</p><p>Not unlike many men, Sydney thought absently. "I suspect I may be able to offer some reassurance," he whispered dryly. "Tell them I mean <em>them</em> no harm... and stay where you are until I call for you." Domenic nodded, and Sydney rose, leaving the cover of the bushes and making for the knights. He might have taken them by surprise, but in this case, he wanted to confirm something.</p><p>The confirmation he sought came almost immediately when the first of the knights spotted him standing there in the midst of the forest. As the party came to an abrupt halt, Sydney immediately caught the reaction in the first knight's heart: <i>It </i>is<i> him! But how did the hounds not-</i></p><p>This was a riskier way to confront the knights, now that so many patrolled together, but Sydney was prepared to strike upon sight and did so, sending his magic spiraling between the trees. The man who had held the hounds' leashes was one of the first to fall, and the dogs yelped, turning aside from the presence of the unusual energies. He could not strike the knights all at once, however, and a few in the rear remained untouched.</p><p>They seemed to have a better idea how to counter magic as well, Sydney discovered, for those at the rear held crossbows, and immediately scattered, making it more difficult to strike the remainder with a single spell. Whoever he did not target might have an opening to fire, unless he was quick enough to take them out before they could settle themselves to aim. He dispatched two of the four remaining easily, barely dodged a bolt that whizzed past his shoulder, and ignored the knight who had fired it in favor of attacking the other, for his bow was still loaded.</p><p>The remaining knight was smart enough to keep moving, however, and when Sydney looked back, he was not where he had expected to take aim. The Dark allowed Sydney to sense his presence, but as Sydney turned, he found the crossbow already reloaded, the tapered tip of the bolt pointing directly at his head...</p><p>And the bolt flew harmlessly off at an angle when one of the hounds emerged from the brush, tackling the knight before he knew what hit him. Immediately the hound leapt off again, leaving the last of the Blades vulnerable to Sydney's final spell.</p><p>That took care of that, Sydney thought, and turned back to where he had left Domenic, calling the boy over. He seemed already to know what had happened, for he knelt down beside the hound that had assisted Sydney, scratching behind the ears. "I guess you could say they decided to trust you," he observed, as the other hound reappeared. "Pity we have little enough food as it is, so - ahh, but here," he observed, following the second hound to the body of the knight that had held their leashes. He'd had a pack over one shoulder, and Domenic set about opening it. "They'll get their reward for a job well done after all."</p><p>Sydney nodded. And that job was what they were here to find out. The knights' reaction told Sydney they had been seeking someone, but it implied they had not been sure who, and they too thought it strange the hounds had not given chase if their intended prey was so close. "Once they've had a bite, if you might ask them - who or what were they set to find?"</p><p>Domenic knelt there a little longer, offering strips of meat to the two hounds, then one of them turned aside, sniffing at the knight's waist, nudging at him as if the hound were trying to move him. Domenic moved over to see, and lifted the knight enough to free something beneath him, tucked into his belt. "They were looking for the one who owned this."</p><p>It was a scrap of fabric that Domenic handed him, a square approximately the size of his head, cut roughly from a larger piece. It was not a particularly distinctive fabric, plain grey wool felted from wear, but almost at once Sydney suspected he recognized it. He had slept in blankets of the same material, just as worn - until the night they had happened across Hardin, and Sydney had surrendered them to him. </p><p>He couldn't be certain, it <em>was</em> a common type of fabric. But even knowing this, and despite his concerns for Hardin's safety - all the more if it were true - he found himself with a hint of a mischievous smile forming upon his lips. So Hardin had been causing such trouble for the Blades as to catch their attention, had he...?</p><p>But it changed nothing - it merely solved the mystery. Sydney had been searching for Hardin and the others who were still missing, and this was all the more reason to find them as soon as possible, for it meant the Blades were actively hunting Hardin now as well as himself. Domenic was still kneeling with the hounds, looking up at Sydney and awaiting instruction. "The Blades, at least, seem to think we're on the right track," Sydney remarked, tucking the scrap of fabric away within his cloak. "Let us return to our brethren... and I believe we can take on a few more," he added, as the two hounds attentively watched Domenic stand, "if our new allies care to join us. As it so happens, we appear to be seeking the same thing, at least in part." It was possible, Sydney thought as they set out together again, that the hounds might pick up an old scent before they were close enough for Sydney to sense another's presence, and they might be able to lead his group to those who were still missing. </p><p>It was Sydney's own senses that gave them more clarity, after they had walked on longer still. There were knights closer, which complicated matters, but if he concentrated, he could be certain - the Dark recognized itself, and it told him that to the west, it had friends. Sydney could not tell how many, if it might be the entire number of his followers that were still unaccounted for, but there was at least one, and his suspicion was that it could not be one lone man or woman.</p><p>The picture did not grow any clearer as he followed the invisible trail the Dark laid out before him. At the rate those with him were traveling, they were gaining no ground; whoever it was seemed to be moving north, at a similar speed. With so many knights about, Sydney was reluctant to pull too far ahead, though he did discuss the option with Kermiak and a few of the others, who were confident that they had the numbers to stand against a squadron of the Blades so long as they were not surprised. </p><p>It was not enough to merely stand against them, in Sydney's opinion. He would not lose any more of his kin. Already too many had been lost. But by staying back to ensure the safety of those already with him, did he risk the lives of those who lay ahead?</p><p>While he was still weighing his options, he found that they <em>were</em> gaining ground now. Not because they were moving faster, though, and not because the others had slowed. They had changed direction, and were moving southward again. It was definitely multiple people, Sydney could now be certain. And they were <em>using</em> the Dark. The most likely explanation was that they had been found, and they had engaged the knights.</p><p>It seemed the choice had been made for him. After a brief word with those who had experience with the tactics used when fighting the Blades, Sydney settled on something of a compromise; those who were weary should rest, with a contingent under Kermiak's command to keep watch over them and protect them. Duncan and a few others would come with Sydney, as fast as they could manage. Sydney himself pressed on ahead, as fast as he could manage over such uneven, uncertain terrain. He had to trust that the gods would watch over his brethren, and that their guidance had led him to make the correct choice.</p><p>Those ahead of him were moving again, faster, and Sydney tried to adjust his course accordingly. He'd been heading northwest, but with the others moving south, soon he was heading west...</p><p>And upon breaking forth into a clearing, he found it littered with the bodies of approximately a dozen Crimson Blades, so recently slain that the smell of smoke and burnt flesh still lingered among those who had been felled by magic. Others had fallen to swords and crossbow bolts. Sydney only spared a passing thought as to how that had come to pass, since few of the brethren were armed. He would find out later, perhaps; at the moment, those who had done this impressive work were still on the move, and another squadron of knights was following them. </p><p>He was close enough to sense both, now only a short distance to the south. The knights were moving faster, he realized with dismay - and it fueled his determination. He would simply have to move faster than the knights, and this was something he was capable of. And they were so near, surely it would not take long...</p><p>But then everything went to pieces. It was as if the Dark had shattered - those of his kin he sensed ahead suddenly were going different directions, different speeds. Sydney was so close now that he could hear the glee in the hearts of the Blades' as they spotted someone, <i>it's him, it has to be him, the fool's going to sacrifice himself for the rest of those heathens</i>, and he could hear the guilty determination in Hardin's heart as he let a wounded, terrified Kirrienne down from his shoulder, <i>I cannot save her, but perhaps I can save some of the others</i> - and pushing through a thickly overgrown patch of brush, he could <em>see</em> Hardin now from across an open area littered with fallen trees, expression grim as he turned to face what he knew must be certain death. A dozen knights had been giving chase, a few were nearly on top of him, there was not enough space between Hardin and those few for Sydney to use a spell accurately at such a distance...</p><p>The words came readily to his lips, and the knights in their fervor never heard them shouted. At Sydney's command, the fallen trees stood upright once more, looming amidst the startled knights as the wood golem took form. One giant log hopped atop two others, two thick stumps rose to stand in for the creature's arms - and immediately it began the work Sydney had called it for. With a single swipe of a massive arm, the knights closest to Hardin were knocked aside, and Hardin stumbled backwards in shock as the other arm came down upon one of the fallen Blades, crushing him.</p><p>Expecting to face only a single man, the knights were caught entirely unprepared, and proved defenseless against the giant creature. Sydney watched with satisfaction as one Crimson Blade after another fell before it, flung into a tree or stomped into the forest floor. If he'd been only an instant later... He closed his eyes for a moment, offering a prayer of gratitude. The gods had not only guided his path true, but brought him just in time.</p><p>As the golem stalked back and forth, Sydney caught sight of Hardin beyond, having backed out of harm's way. No longer was he watching the golem or the knights, his eyes were fixed on Sydney - and Sydney's smile grew a bit wider as he pushed back the hood of his cloak, meeting Hardin's relieved eyes.</p><p>-----</p><p>Finishing off the squadron of Crimson Blades that pursued Hardin was not the end of it. Having caught up closely enough that he could sense those who scattered when Hardin made his stand, Sydney could send those who followed behind him to bring them back. So many were weary, both those who had been with Hardin and those he had left with Kermiak. The sun was beginning to go down, and no more of the Blades remained in the vicinity, so Sydney sent word back to Kermiak to go ahead and make camp for the night. Those who had come with him would meet them there once everyone was accounted for.</p><p>And it did seem that <em>everyone</em> was accounted for, when Sydney asked Kirrienne. Wounded by a crossbow bolt during a previous battle, her magic depleted, she had not gone far before Sydney had arrived. Thus once he had healed her and calmed her down - for she had nearly seen another of their friends sacrifice himself before her eyes - she could fill Sydney in on what had happened since they had parted ways. From what she reported, it seemed as if their group had found everyone that Sydney's party hadn't, and they had suffered no losses since. Hardin's idea to arm them all with plundered weaponry and his tactics in confronting the Blades, mostly by forcing their hand or setting ambushes through subterfuge, had allowed them to defend themselves quite easily, until the knights increased in number and they became overwhelmed. </p><p>He could also have asked Hardin about these matters, of course. But although he wasn't physically wounded, Hardin looked to be even more in shock, simply standing by in exhausted silence, watching blankly as Sydney gave the orders and asked the questions. </p><p>Or that could have been only an excuse. Sydney had made up his mind. It was for Hardin's own good, no matter how his heart had nearly strangled him at the sight of Hardin facing an entire squadron of Crimson Blades alone... And that was the point, wasn't it? That had been terrible enough. Sydney couldn't bear to think that he was to see something worse.</p><p>In spite of his resolve, he knew it would not be easy. He would have asked the gods for strength, but given what he would be using it for, he had the feeling they might not answer. Or perhaps, as was their right, they would answer in the negative.</p><p>He put it off as long as possible, but finally all the arrangements had been made. The others had been sent off to bring back their brethren or were on their way back to the campsite. The golem still stood by, Sydney realized, awaiting further knights to dispatch, and he took a moment to dispel it. </p><p>Which left him alone with Hardin. Completely alone. He could feel Hardin's eyes on his back, and after steeling himself, finally he turned.</p><p>He wasn't sure what he was expecting. Anger, perhaps, or it could be that again Hardin's anger had been worn away by the passage of time, leaving that core of stubborn solicitude beneath. Or he might have simply been relieved, grateful for Sydney appearing when he did.  Regardless of what Sydney might have expected, Hardin simply standing there in continued silence with a troubled look... was not it. </p><p>But again, it did not matter. Sydney <em>had</em> made up his mind. "I'm glad to see that you and the others are well." He kept his tone casual, impersonal. "I must admit, you performed far beyond what I expected of you. To not only protect those entrusted to you, but to empower them - to gather whomever you could find and mold their motley talents into a fighting company..." It <em>was</em> impressive, but Sydney kept his smile small and distant. "I knew you would not disappoint me."</p><p>"Of course not." Hardin's silence was broken with the bitter reply. "And that, of course, was why you simply gave me what seemed like a near impossible order - we came <em>damned</em> near to dying a few times, mind you," he continued, his voice rising in anger, "and then left without any explanation or assurance. Because you knew I would simply do as I was told, regardless of how I felt about the matter, since you deigned to bestow a kiss upon me, to seal my obedience. As if I were some lovestruck youth to be prodded along with promises of more!"</p><p>That last bit was not the truth of it... but the rest was true enough. Sydney remained silent, letting Hardin rant as he wished. He supposed he deserved to be shouted at.</p><p>"Do you know why I protected them, Sydney? Do you?" Hardin demanded. "It was not for you - it was for Kirri and Branla. If I had not known that they would likely die without my protection, I'd have left to flee the king's men and the Blades alone. I was doing a fine job of it until I met you, after all, and now that I've recovered, certainly I could do it again with ease. I wouldn't have given a damn if I had disappointed you - I did what you asked of me because they needed me, not because of your orders."</p><p>That too was true - Sydney could hear the echoes of it in his heart. Hardin was too hurt, too angry at the moment, to speak anything <em>but</em> the truth. Which was just as well, for it might make this go more quickly. "If that is how you feel," he told Hardin calmly, "you are free to leave us anytime you like. You've done what I asked of you, after all."</p><p>His cool tone had the desired effect. Hardin was stunned for a moment, then his rage boiled over. By the gods - you're the most black-hearted... after all that I - that we..."</p><p>His inability to get the words out left Sydney with another opportunity, and he took it. "I am black-hearted because I offer you your freedom?"</p><p>Hardin's eyes flashed with fury, his fists clenched. Sydney remained still and serene, waiting for the inevitable outburst. Instead, the silence between them remained until Hardin spoke again, even and earnest. "...This hurts, Sydney."</p><p>It would hurt more, if Hardin insisted on dragging it out. "And why is that?" Sydney inquired.</p><p>"You know I don't want to leave you," Hardin stated. "You said yourself not long ago that you thought you might have need of me, and I believe you were right. And besides-"</p><p>"We have other swordsmen," Sydney interrupted. He could hear what Hardin's heart was telling him, and if at all possible, he would prefer not to get into that. "Though you are skilled, you are not indispensible. We can find others to take up with us, I'm sure."</p><p>"I didn't mean Müllenkamp," Hardin told him, and had the audacity to look Sydney in the eye. "I meant you."</p><p>Of course Sydney knew that, and he averted his eyes, covering it with a haughty sniff. "Hardin, you're talking nonsense."</p><p>"Am I?" Hardin asked. "I've seen the parts of you that you allow no one else to see. I've forgiven your indiscretions, I've borne witness to your unhappiness, I've held you during your weakness..." Sydney refused to look him in the eye, for with each word, Hardin's anger was dissolving, his tone softening. "...This isn't you."</p><p>Sydney had lost control of the situation, obviously. He'd anticipated the hurt, prepared himself for rage. He'd counted on it, in fact. Why did Hardin have to be so good at seeing through him - was <em>he</em> not the heartseer?</p><p>Hardin's voice was even gentle when he continued, hesitant but deliberate. "You told me that every man has needs. As much as you drive me mad, I know it's... it's only because you hide yourself away, you hide your needs, you pretend you feel nothing at all... Gods," he added vehemently as his frustration flared up again, "if only you would just stop forcing me to <em>guess</em> at what you want from me, because..."</p><p>His voice softened again, so maddeningly earnest, and Sydney was caught between the conflicting urges to either drink it in, or stop it at once. "Because Sydney, I want to... to continue to be the one to meet the needs you hide away, just as you have met mine. It's foolish of me, I know... and at the moment I despise myself for it," he nearly growled, giving way to another flare of frustration, "but-"</p><p>This couldn't go on. "Hardin," Sydney began, looking up to him again.</p><p>Hardin only shook his head at the interruption. "Sydney." It had been a mistake to look at him again, for Hardin met his eyes without faltering, and the words he was trying to say - the words he never had said, for he would not say them unless he meant them with his whole heart - were written there plainly. "...I-"</p><p>"John, please." Sydney was unable to put any sort of force behind the rebuke, and it came off more as a softly-spoken plea.</p><p>"No," Hardin said firmly. "Sydney, I-"</p><p>John Hardin loved him, and that meant he would never leave Sydney's side. Not even if it meant his own death. Sydney was suddenly furious himself. "Don't say it, Hardin," he interrupted again, turning away. Looking at the aftermath of the Blades' battle with the golem, looking at the leaves of the trees blowing in the wind - anything but that look in Hardin's eyes. He would not give in. "Don't ever say it."</p><p>"And why shouldn't I? This is no whim - I honestly mean it."</p><p>Sydney looked back, his rage and desperation nearly boiling over, and Hardin flinched, taking a startled step back. That stopped Sydney in his tracks too, and he managed to swallow the angry words he'd been about to speak. ...Hardin would forgive anything he said or did in a moment where he was lacking self-control, obviously - he would tell himself that Sydney didn't mean it, that it was just one of those emotional fits he had. That just like every other time Sydney had lashed out, he'd regret it, and on the other side there would be some new understanding between them, some new intimacy that was for him alone.</p><p>This time there would be no other side. Sydney forced himself to still, let go of the anger before he spoke, simply and quietly. "I do not love you, Hardin," he said, and just to be clear, repeated it slowly. "I... do not... love you."</p><p>Hardin had frozen in place, his expression just as when Sydney had turned to him in anger. Sydney waited, but Hardin was too stunned to reply in words; his heart cried out that he didn't believe it for a second, yet doubt was beginning to creep in, for why would Sydney have said such a thing...? Never, in all the time they had spent together, had Sydney ever suggested an attraction more than lust...</p><p>Sydney nodded. "So you understand."</p><p>The calm words seemed to break through, interrupting the shell of Hardin's thoughts, and he tensed in anger. "You <em>bastard</em>," he growled. "You couldn't just leave me alone - you had to stir all this up, push me to the very edge of my sanity, and all over you... and <em>now</em> you tell me? Why did you do this? Why?"</p><p>"Because you could meet those needs you so like to remind me of," Sydney replied. "Because your attentions please me. And," he added, arching an eyebrow at him, "would it have made any difference if you'd known?" Sydney even made himself smile.</p><p>Hardin almost replied, then reconsidered, a pained look upon his face. The way he shifted and clenched his fist made Sydney wonder if Hardin was about to strike him again, but he did not move. He deserved it, or worse... and it would hurt far less than allowing Hardin to stay, and acknowledging why.</p><p>Instead, at last, Hardin only turned his head away in frustration, and Sydney took advantage of the opportunity to leave. He had said what he wanted to say - or rather, what he <em>intended</em> to say - and there was no point in standing there longer. It would only give Hardin more chance to see through it, as he so often did, or possibly he himself would let something slip...</p><p>It was likely more possible than he thought, because as soon as he was out of sight within the cover of the forest again, he found tears in his eyes. Perhaps it was just that he was so very tired, for this was far from the first time he had done something he truly did not want to do. But the idea of never seeing Hardin again, should he decide to leave at once and evade the knights on his own... or seeing him across the campsite, glowering in that way he had, until one day he simply wasn't there...</p><p>But far better to endure these things with the assurance that Hardin had escaped, Sydney thought. Either way, there would have come a day when Hardin would not be at their fires, that he would never see Hardin again. It was all one and the same for <em>him</em>, but perhaps in the intervening years, Hardin could find peace, start a new life, find someone to love who could love him in return. Maybe start a family - Sydney suspected Hardin would likely be an excellent father as well.</p><p>Imagining it made him feel a little bit better, reassuring him that he was doing the right thing. By Hardin, at least - there was still the matter of why Hardin might have been important to the gods' plan for him and his brethren. But perhaps this incident, with Hardin protecting those Sydney could not protect, was all that was necessary. Perhaps the vision he'd seen of Hardin's death was, in fact, entirely avoidable - and he had just avoided it. Müllenkamp had said very little was certain about Hardin's future as of yet, so he could not have been spoiling too much of the gods' plans either by sending Hardin away.</p><p>Even so, the breath he drew was shaky. As for himself...? He had the gods, the Lady, his brethren, and his divine mission. Far better for him to remain as he was, undistracted.</p><p>Rather than returning to his brethren just yet, Sydney walked deeper into the woods. For the moment, he needed solitude, whether because he desired it or because he deserved it.</p><p>-----</p><p>Some time later found Sydney much more calm, or perhaps just too worn out from everything that had transpired to be upset any longer. He had found a place to be alone, from which he had kept a watchful eye on the situation for a little while, sensing the brethren coming together, glad reunions, setting out towards the campsite. As well, the few Blades that were near enough for him to sense at all were heading south, presumably giving up the search for the night, as the sun was now sinking. </p><p>Physically, emotionally, and spiritually drained - for the creation and imbuement of a golem was not meant to go so quickly - and with safety ensured for those who followed him, it seemed an acceptable luxury to retreat for a little longer, to clear his head with the sight of the sunset. Within the forest, it would have been difficult to see, if not for the tremendous oak tree he had found. It gave him a nice view of the sky, not to mention that being perched so high above the forest floor meant no one would find him to trouble him while he rested peacefully.</p><p>"You're a lying bastard, Sydney."</p><p>...Or almost no one. The quiet call from below startled him, and before he could stop himself, he had to smile slightly when he looked down to see Hardin standing at the foot of the tree. "Sometimes, yes," he acknowledged.</p><p>Hardin just looked up at him, his gaze steady. "...You need me."</p><p>Were they really going to have to do this again, Sydney wondered, staring down at Hardin with renewed frustration? How difficult was this going to be? ...What point was there, if Hardin <em>still</em> could see through him, even after that? </p><p>"Good," Hardin said with a nod, when Sydney gave no answer. "So you've decided not to lie again. ...Sydney, come down," he urged him.</p><p>Sydney supposed there was no getting around it if Hardin had followed him this far - Hardin was so stubborn he'd probably climb the tree to address him face to face. A subtle gesture and a murmured word, and Hardin started as Sydney appeared on the ground right in front of him. Well, Hardin had asked him to come down, Sydney thought with a wry smile. "I frighten you," he observed.</p><p>"Yes you do," Hardin agreed, without the slightest hint of shame. "You frighten me constantly. I should really hate you, for all you put me through - and then, just when I think it's over, you go and say <em>that</em>."</p><p>Despite his harsh words, he only sounded tired. He really should have given up, Sydney thought. "Hardin, I-"</p><p>"Don't worry," Hardin added, interrupting him. "I'm too much of a damned fool to hate you, you realize. I even suppose you have your reasons for acting this way. But do you know something? I don't care."</p><p>Then there was nothing Sydney could say to convince him to go, presumably. "...Then you <em>are</em> a fool," Sydney stated.</p><p>"Sydney..." Hardin still wasn't angry, merely exhausted. And apparently, too insightful. "Why are you trying so hard to drive me away?"</p><p>...He couldn't do this. Sydney turned away from Hardin, absently reaching out for a branch that strayed from a nearby bush. Just to have something to touch, and he found himself praying after all. <i>Please... just let him go quietly. Please...</i> In all of their creation, surely the gods could find another to fulfill whatever place they had prepared for Hardin. Someone like himself, who had nothing else to live for beyond service, or who had a penance or debt unfulfilled. He himself had been adding to his own each time he spoke, he thought bitterly, as if he already had been lacking.</p><p>"Sydney, you..." Hardin finally sounded angry, but after only a few words, he quieted again. "Sydney," he murmured. He seemed not to know what he wanted to say - other than Sydney's name, repeating it like a meditation, as if it might give him the answers he sought. "Sydney... Sydney, I will not say it, if it truly means so much to you," he said finally. "But... it doesn't matter, really, does it? You can read my heart..."</p><p>And Hardin's heart was wide open. <i>Why does the word trouble him so much? Why can he not just admit there is something between us? Surely he knows it is mutual, he has no need to fear disappointment or rejection... Fine, then. If he will not hear the words spoken, I will show him another way.</i></p><p>Sydney's attention was focused inward, and his eyes widened slightly as Hardin's touch brought him back to his own body. Hardin stood behind him, slipping his arms beneath Sydney's to hold him in a cautious embrace. Though Sydney refused to move, even to acknowledge the gesture, Hardin took the lack of rebuke as a victory; he rested his chin comfortably atop Sydney's bowed head, holding him closer still.  "...I missed you these past days," he whispered, after they'd stood there in silence together for a time. "Even as angry as I was, I missed you a great deal."</p><p>Sydney did not respond, either in words or by relaxing into that embrace. He only squeezed his eyes closed, continuing to twirl the supple twig between his fingers. <i>Why? Why can he not just go?</i></p><p>At Sydney's continued refusal to respond, Hardin sighed faintly. "...I cannot understand why it upsets you so. I apologize," he said quietly. "I did not mean for this to happen. I never wanted it to happen - gods, but I wanted it <em>not</em> to happen... I still don't know how it did happen..."</p><p>Sydney did. "Fate."</p><p>After so long in silence, the single softly spoken word seemed to almost startle Hardin. "Is that what you believe then?"</p><p>Sydney didn't want to answer that - even thinking about it made it too real - and he was suddenly furious. He hadn't wanted any of these complicated conversations, but only to turn Hardin aside from further misfortune, to return to what passed as normalcy for his own life. Even if he now found it unsatisfying, it had been familiar, safe... like the prison cell he had once compared it to. Had that dream, he suddenly wondered, been meant for more than Hardin's eyes? Was this how he was to burn, by ushering Hardin in to share in the same slow suffocation that awaited him? His hand closed harshly on the branch he'd been toying with, sending needles and twigs flying as he shook off Hardin's embrace. "Damn it all!" </p><p>"Forgive me, I..." Hardin began, drawing his hands back at once, but he stopped there, unsure of what he was apologizing for, exactly.</p><p>Sydney stepped away, turning his back to Hardin as he gazed upwards. ...He found he had no more words for prayers. He had made his decision, and his decision had been overturned. If this was how it had to be...</p><p>"I don't want to believe that it is inescapable," Hardin said quietly, "or as we spoke of not so long ago, that means we have no say in our lives. But perhaps in some cases, fate is not a sentence to either fight against or resign yourself to, but a promise to be embraced."</p><p>Sydney shook his head restlessly. "You know not of what you speak, Hardin."</p><p>"Then tell me."</p><p>...What if he did? Sydney entertained the thought for a moment, wondering just how inappropriate it would be, when Hardin had yet to choose his path. But then again... "No." Hardin had obviously already made his choice. "It does not matter."</p><p>"Obviously it matters to you." The fool, Sydney thought as Hardin took a cautious step closer behind him. He was worried, as he should be - but about Sydney, rather than himself. Sydney crossed his arms over his chest defensively as Hardin took another step closer. "...Will you continue to shut me out forever?"</p><p>Sydney started to turn back to Hardin, to retort that it wasn't about <em>him</em> - but the instant he did, Hardin wrapped his arms around him once more. Not having expected that, instinct caused him to push back against Hardin's chest, trying to free himself...</p><p>But in all honesty, he didn't want to. From all indications, it was useless. Hardin was not going to leave, no matter how much he argued. His embrace was warm, strong, steady... and he was there, living, breathing. </p><p><i>...As always, you've won.</i> Sydney gave up. Closing his eyes with a sigh, he lifted his own arms, wrapping them around Hardin's waist as he rested his head against Hardin's shoulder. Haunted he was, and haunted he would presumably remain, but being held the way Hardin held him was comforting. Probably as comforting as anything could be, but for the embrace of the gods themselves. They had made themselves clear now - there was no excuse to fight against it any longer. He'd been foolish to try.</p><p>Hardin had relaxed too at Sydney's reciprocation, his heart giving off that sparkling sense of fragile wonder he so often had felt when Sydney dared to lower his guard. He was emboldened as well, that Sydney would allow it even after he had made his feelings clear; after some deliberation, one of Hardin's hands rose to caress Sydney's cheek, sliding a finger beneath Sydney's chin to urge it upwards. </p><p>He couldn't do it. Even having given up on sending Hardin away, Sydney was not ready to concede that much intimacy, nor did he deserve Hardin's kind affection after what he'd done. Besides, given how weary they both were from grief and fear, how desperate for solace after all that had happened in the past few days, and Hardin's sudden courage in touching him, Sydney suspected it would not stop at that. He could feel the longing hovering there in the shadows of Hardin's heart, and before their lips could meet, he slipped one of his own clawed fingers between them, pressing it lightly against Hardin's mouth to stop him. "Hardin..." he said quietly, "there are things to be done, matters to be attended to. I should see to my followers." Even if he was giving in to this much, the brethren must remain his highest priority. "They've gathered in a place of my choosing, and are setting up camp - many of them are weary beyond measure."</p><p>"...Of course, you're right." Hardin was a bit disappointed, but not hurt. He had, after all, just won what seemed to be a small victory; he did not realize how much Sydney was truly surrendering. "But Sydney..." he began, stepping back.</p><p>"No." Sydney heard the question in his heart, and he had no intention of explaining. "We will speak later, Hardin," he said, turning to make for the campsite, "but not of that."</p><p>Hardin did not follow, but stood there a moment longer, puzzled, until Sydney glanced back. <i>...I do not even know what I was going to ask. I have so many questions...</i></p><p>Sydney gave him a shrewd look. "Come and sleep, Hardin - you're utterly exhausted."</p><p>It hadn't even dawned on Hardin, and he lowered his eyes self-consciously as he absently rubbed at his jaw, rough and a few days unshaven. "Of course, you're right," he acknowledged, as he began to follow Sydney. Then, a cautious lowering of his voice. "I... confess that I have not slept so well since we last saw each other."</p><p>Not a surprising admission, given what they'd both been through since, but what Hardin truly meant to say was crystal clear. Sydney hesitated, but perhaps because he was just as tired - of walking, grieving, denying, fighting what seemed like the whole of creation and perhaps its creators - he replied in kind. "...Nor have I."</p><p>Hardin did not reply, but Sydney could feel the warmth his words brought even so.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sydney hadn't been merely trying to put some distance between himself and Hardin - he truly did have things to see to among his followers. Upon returning to them, since those who had been been under Hardin's watch were now gathered together with those he had found himself, he wanted to make certain. He believed that everyone was accounted for, either with them at the camp or confirmed dead, but with all the stress he had been under and the lack of proper sleep, he had to admit that it was possible he had miscounted by one or two or skipped over someone among so many.</p><p>So many, all his responsibility. After having carefully gone over who was present, and adding the list of the dead, everyone was indeed accounted for - but there were too many by far among the dead. In his years with Müllenkamp, they had never lost more than one in a single incident with the knights, much less fifteen within a few days.</p><p>Even so, he refused to give in to grief again. Far more had survived than died, and the living were the ones who needed him now. And then too there was the ordinary business of setting up camp for the night - ensuring that someone was alert enough to take the first watch, and that those who intended to go to sleep at once were comfortable, with at least one blanket for all who needed them.</p><p>It was this mundane thought that had caused him to realize something which he found very amusing, as he initially had returned to the camp with Hardin close behind. It might only have been because he was so tired himself, but...</p><p>"...Sydney?" Hardin had asked with curious concern, seeing Sydney's shoulders shaking beneath the cloak as they approached the others.</p><p>It was only quiet laughter, however, and Sydney turned to face Hardin with a smirk. "It seemed logical to leave this pack with you when I went off in search of the others." He had reclaimed it on their way back to the camp, when he realized Hardin was still carrying two - and being Hardin, of course he had not said a word about it. "Seeing as I have less need for provisions, and would likely not sleep much."</p><p>"Yes..." Hardin didn't see what was so humorous about that.</p><p>Given what the hounds had been chasing, the scrap of fabric he still had tucked away... "You dropped your bedroll, did you not?" Sydney observed, stopping just shy of the clearing.</p><p>"Well, yes..." Hardin still didn't see how that could be considered humorous, and he paused beside Sydney. "At least one of us was awake at all times, and I thought we would be better served using the room in my pack for the weapons the knights carried, so that those we found could arm themselves..."</p><p>"Yet you still carried my blankets."</p><p>After a second, it did dawn on Hardin, and he looked slightly sheepish. "Your blankets were not mine to forfeit," he explained. "And besides, if we found you again, I would rather have had my own pack weighed down by the weapons than yours."</p><p>"Sound enough reasoning, I suppose," Sydney agreed. "Yet, have you forgotten - the blankets you carried in your own pack were once my blankets?" Those in his own pack had been brought out from Leá Monde when they departed, replacements for those he had willingly given up months ago.</p><p>At this, Hardin looked puzzled again. "...I apologize?"</p><p>"You have nothing to apologize for," Sydney assured him. "I merely find it amusing that for a second time, I'll be surrendering my blankets to you."</p><p>Hardin's face seemed to be trying to display multiple expressions at once - he saw the humor now, yes, but he also wanted to protest, and at the same time his mind was drifting back over how far they had come since that first night. "That's not-"</p><p>"Oh, it is," Sydney affirmed, and swung his reclaimed pack down off his shoulder, starting to untie the straps. "You need sleep at once, that much is clear. Given that the rest of us are still setting up - and no, I forbid you from assisting, or taking a watch - I suggest that you take these and set up a short distance away, so that you will not be disturbed."</p><p>Hardin looked like he wanted to object, but after a hesitation, he accepted the blankets that Sydney was offering. Or perhaps it wasn't that he wanted to object, but he found himself self-conscious about what he said instead when he finally spoke. "...And if I suggested I wouldn't mind being 'disturbed'?"</p><p>Sydney wasn't going to even consider it. And given the fact that it was <em>Hardin</em> suggesting it... "Hardin. Sleep." He gestured outwards, away from the camp. "You obviously need it."</p><p>Hardin was also tired enough that he chuckled as he nodded and turned away. Once he had, Sydney let his own guard down enough to smile after him, faint and weary but fond. After everything that had happened, everything he personally had done, it had been comforting to see Hardin's smile again.</p><p>But he was the high priest, their leader, and he had many followers to tend to. He'd spent the next hours not only verifying that all who still lived were with them, but spending an extra moment with those whose hearts were heavy or anxious, offering such comfort or consolation as each required, and the reassurance that they <em>would</em> get through this, although they were quite literally not out of the woods yet. He was already considering their next move, but decided before long that he would think about it once he'd moved his brethren and the refugees to somewhere safer. Without the need to worry about the cart, they could travel off even the minor roads, perhaps heading northwest to put some distance between themselves and where the knights appeared to be encamped. Having decided on that first step, he could allow himself the luxury of sleep. ...Though not the luxury of disturbing Hardin, even if he had been invited. He would, as he had been doing, simply wrap up in his cloak.</p><p>He woke but a few hours later, restless, presumably because he had not been sleeping at night regularly for some time. Assuring those who kept watch that all was well, that he was only going for a walk - and smiling at the sight of the knights' hounds curled up at Domenic's feet, all of them sleeping peacefully - he slipped away from his brethren and into the forest. </p><p>So much had happened in so short a time, he suspected he still had not quite comprehended or accepted all of it. His heart was full of worrying things, kept at bay mostly by his faith. Surely in spite of his rebellion, the gods would not allow him trouble beyond his ability to withstand, and they would guide him in the decisions he must make. It was not himself alone who would suffer if they ceased to offer their protection and wisdom, but also their children, who had done nothing wrong - by contrast, they had done more than could have been expected of them. </p><p>Yes, his heart grew somewhat less troubled as he slowly wandered through the quiet of the forest. The gods were indeed gracious. He himself would certainly atone somehow, offering whatever penance or sacrifice they might ask.  All the while he must continue to listen to their word in protecting and guiding his brethren through the darkness of these days - moving forward one step at a time, taking each trial as it came, and doing what was necessary to endure to the next. As for the things he could not affect... they would give him the strength to accept them, in time. </p><p>...So of course, he thought with a faint sigh as he came to a stop suddenly, his wandering feet had found their way to where Hardin had laid his blankets, at the bottom of a steep slope below where the brethren had set up camp. Someone was not being subtle.</p><p>He was not inclined to do anything about this suspiciously convenient discovery, however. In the few days they'd had alone together on their way back from the duke's manor, he had had a few opportunities to watch Hardin as he slept, from only inches away. As pleasant as the thought was of climbing under the blankets with him and lying down in his arms, there were too many reasons not to. Besides, it would not be the first time he'd watched Hardin sleep from a bit further away... but possibly the first time he'd been entirely in his right mind to enjoy the sight of the man actually <em>resting</em>. And deservedly so - he had not thanked Hardin near enough for what he'd done for Kirrienne, Branla, and the others he had managed to protect in Sydney's absence. On the contrary, the reception he'd received from Sydney had not been any sort of reward. Nor did Sydney deserve such a reward as Hardin's embrace - he had not even apologized. And in fact, Hardin had not even asked.</p><p>Thinking about that again infused the calm Sydney had found with a pensive air. He still didn't know what he was to do about Hardin. He was so determined to remain at Sydney's side, and it seemed inevitable that he would, yet he was not even one of the brethren. Why had the gods deemed him important enough that Hardin should be in his dreams, that he was beyond Sydney's power to send away...?</p><p>Hardin's heart was muddled and murky with his own dreams, ordinary and without deeper meaning, until something within them startled him. The dreams fled, skittering away like insects at the sudden presence of light, and Hardin stirred as he came awake. Immediately something else left him wary. <i>I am not alone here,</i> he thought, still too drowsy to shield his thoughts, and his head turned almost at once to regard Sydney, standing near his feet. <i>...Strange that this time I should be waking to see </i>him<i> watching </i>me<i> sleep.</i></p><p>The thought made Sydney smile, just a little. "You've not fully rested," he remarked.</p><p>"I've rested enough," Hardin muttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he sat up. "And you? Have you slept?"</p><p>"I've slept enough," Sydney replied in kind, and was rewarded with a small smile from Hardin. Pity it couldn't last - since he'd pushed Hardin to go to sleep early, after a reunion that had been more infuriating than informative, they had some catching up to do. "Much has taken place in the past few days, and if you've rested 'enough', then I believe I should fill you in." Hardin nodded, and so Sydney proceeded, though he knew Hardin wouldn't like it. "We've lost fifteen, as well as some of the villagers we tried to protect."</p><p>As expected, Hardin was stunned. "...Lost...?"</p><p>"They were slaughtered before I could reach them," Sydney said, keeping his voice quiet and steady as he recited the list he had been compiling in despair while they were apart, now complete. "Jonas. Fanella. Dorian. Miklaus. Garret. Anton. Marcellia. Rafael. Sabine. Noah. Connor. And of course you were aware of Jared and Theonas, and presumably Emmett and Geoffrey, as those whose lives they saved found safety with you." </p><p>Hardin was silent, his heart shadowed, and Sydney smiled slightly, this time more ironic. "I thought it would be best to tell you <em>after</em> you'd slept. Do not mourn, Hardin - not for their sake. They've gone to the arms of the gods, who welcome their martyrs as the most blessed." Each had been known and loved, and it was some small comfort to Sydney to know that now they must be resting within the love that their high priest could only pass along as an echo of what awaited.</p><p>Hardin sighed heavily, resting his head in his hands. "...This can't go on, Sydney. The brethren shouldn't be made to endure such a life - they've done nothing wrong."</p><p>"And yet the knights still prowl the forest," Sydney reminded him. "Even if we had not been framed, in their sight already our lives are forfeit, as we've refused to acknowledge the false hope they offer."</p><p>"Demand is more the word. Hope!" Hardin kept his voice low, but his words were heated and harsh. "What they do is eliminate hope - why would anyone put their hope in such men as would slaughter the innocent?"</p><p>"Why? Because they have never been shown that there is an alternative." The answer to that question was simple enough, Sydney thought - yet it was only an answer, not a solution. "The king has given the church of St. Iocus freedom to do as they wish within his borders, never having seen an alternative himself. And like their ruler, the majority of the people believe what they are told, never finding reason - or strength, when there is reason - to question." He looked down to Hardin, the frustrated frown apparent even in the faint light of the forest at night. "You know this, Hardin - you trusted those blindly loyal to the king and to the church, up until the very instant they betrayed that trust."</p><p>"I was a fool," Hardin muttered in agreement. "And it was not only myself that wound up paying for that folly, but those who most trusted me - my companions, my brother! And how many others have fallen victim to their lies, Sydney? Nearly a score in just the past few days, and the same several times over in a single incident not long before!"</p><p>His voice was beginning to rise despite his earlier restraint. "Calm yourself, Hardin," Sydney urged him, keeping his own voice quiet.</p><p>"Calm myself? And why should I do that? This can't be allowed to happen any longer!" Hardin exclaimed. "When such things happen, what kind of a man would remain calm?"</p><p>"A prudent one." Secretly, Sydney agreed with that assessment, but rage would do nothing at this time. "A man who realizes that one day all will be put aright."</p><p>His serenity seemed to draw Hardin back from his anger, though the sense of helplessness remained as he looked up to meet Sydney's eyes. "...Will it, Sydney?"</p><p>...He could promise nothing. Sydney lowered his head. "It may," he acknowledged. "It has been made known to me that this age is drawing to a close. The violence wrought by the church of St. Iocus could be likened to the birthing pains of a new mother - more suffering must take place before relief comes. If this pain is overcome, it will be forgotten in the joy brought about by the dawning age; but if the pain becomes victorious, it will be as a murderer, and all will remember and curse it." This was why he was now present, why he had survived through the trials of his youth, why he had been turned back from his initially rebellious path, to instead take his place as the high priest. He could raise his head to meet Hardin's eyes again, for of <em>this</em> he had no doubt. "I do not intend to allow that."</p><p>Hardin seemed much steadier now as he nodded, meeting Sydney's eyes just as evenly. "How soon, then?"</p><p>"I know not the hour," Sydney stated. "That is something the gods have not revealed."</p><p>"You misunderstand." His voice was just as firm, and Sydney watched him curiously as he rose to stand, and then pace. Something seemed to be coming together, but Sydney could not be certain of what without scrying. For the moment, he would merely stand back and listen.</p><p>"Why should we wait for the enemy to be overcome? Why not hasten the process?" Hardin thought out loud. "Only a handful of men and women, few of whom had ever handled a weapon before, managed to beat back a greater number of fully armed and trained Crimson Blades, Sydney - think what could be done against them if we were more organized!"</p><p>"Is that so?" Sydney had hoped for something less impetuous coming from Hardin. "Would you have me lead my flock - the innocents who have come to me for refuge - into battle? Would you have them form an army to rebel against the puppet king and the cardinal, when their armies number in the thousands, and ours only a few dozen?"</p><p>"Not an army, and not into battle," Hardin stated. "But with all we are capable of, why do we still die? If those seeking us will not cease, I say we should not sit back and be hunted like rabbits."</p><p>...An interesting choice of analogies, Sydney thought. Hardin could not know of the nickname the Lady had given him, and certainly he did not know why. And yet, last he and the Lady had spoken, she had given him that parting riddle...</p><p>"They've spread their lies about us," Hardin continued, "and I say we ought to give them less lies to work with. If Müllenkamp is already known as a pack of troublemakers..." Hardin stopped his pacing, turning back to face Sydney. "...Then let us use the powers given us through the Dark to make such trouble as they've never seen the likes of before."</p><p>An appealing thought, but unrealistic. "What would you do?" Sydney asked him, his own cynicism slipping into his voice - for he was every bit as bitter about the current state of affairs as Hardin. "Burn the cathedrals and churches to the ground? Magically appear in the midst of the king's court and behead him?"</p><p>"Give me some credit, Sydney - I am not so foolish as to think that it would be as simple as that," Hardin retorted. "In the PeaceGuard, we were not ordinary foot soldiers; we were trained in more than simply swinging a sword. We learned subversion, discretion... and the patience to wait until the time was right, and acceptable tactics had been decided upon."</p><p>It was true, Sydney knew very little about the PeaceGuard Hardin had been a part of, or military matters in general. From the tales Hardin had told by their fires, his unit did do a great deal more than engaging opposing forces in direct combat. And Hardin <em>had</em> done very well in unusual circumstances in the past few days by coming up with unique strategies to face opponents who vastly outnumbered and outmatched those with him, on his own terms. Subversion, he'd said. Discretion, patience... </p><p>Hardin had paused, looking at Sydney with curiosity. Sydney supposed that meant his own interest was showing. "So then, Hardin," he asked, "what <em>would</em> you do?"</p><p>"Precisely? I am not quite sure," Hardin admitted. "But after I had watched, waited, learned all I could about our enemies... then I would formulate our plan. Perhaps something could be stirred up among the people of Valendia to keep them occupied - civil unrest, if not outright rebellion. The people deserve to know what their supposedly holy cardinal has done, what their monarch has allowed to happen. With a public outcry against them, they would be all the more vulnerable to small, focused strikes to undermine their foundation. That is when the Dark could be used to our best advantage."</p><p>"...Hmm." That was rather different from the way Hardin had been attacking the Blades with such success, and on a much larger scale. There was the question of whether such tactics could be scaled up, and how far, but certainly Hardin had stayed within the bounds of his abilities and those with him during this incident. And then also, Sydney really, truly had grown tired of running and hiding, with less and less success as the cardinal grew bolder.</p><p>"You've thought about doing precisely this before, haven't you?" Hardin realized.</p><p>"Who would not, when he is plagued time and time again by the same troubles?" Sydney shrugged slightly. "It was impossible before - never have we had any among our number who were experienced in such matters."</p><p>...But now he had Hardin. Who was, apparently, both determined and destined to stay with the brethren and Sydney in particular. To serve some greater purpose among them. And he had arrived just when it seemed clear that Müllenkamp's children could no longer simply survive by staying out of the way of the Blades. Sydney felt as if something had just clicked into place.</p><p>Hardin, too, seemed to find this turn of their conversation auspicious. "But now..."</p><p>"However, you speak of 'us'. You are not one of us," Sydney observed. The moment seemed particularly weighty all of a sudden, many winding paths converging in his mind - but given what he had seen of Hardin's future, he deserved every opportunity to turn back. "You have much experience in military operations and a particularly useful talent, yes, but you know little of the Dark - how it works, what possibilities it holds, its weak points."</p><p>"Then teach me," Hardin suggested. "Teach me everything. Sorcery, summoning... whatever there is to be learned of the Dark."</p><p>He was much too eager, and that would not do. In fact, it could have been an omen of disaster, if Sydney indulged him without questioning. "There are a few things I believe we should discuss before I oblige you in this... if you still wish to go on once the discussion is through," Sydney told him.</p><p>Hardin did not hesitate, nor falter for even a moment. "Then let us begin."</p><p>"Yes... let us." The way Hardin had jumped at the opportunity was at odds with his earlier wariness of the Dark - but no, that had not changed. Upon watching Hardin more closely, now pacing slowly himself as he listened to the tenor of Hardin's heart, Sydney found that it was only that Hardin was desperate for a purpose in his life... and more personally, the desire to help Sydney and his followers, those to whom he'd grown so close. To take what he had learned through his unfortunate circumstances, and use it for something noble. </p><p>"Your voice may ask this of me," Sydney said at last, "but your heart is still filled with fear."</p><p>Hardin's expression remained firm. "I won't deny that."</p><p>"Good." The word was sharp enough to make Hardin snap upright. "The Dark is a very dangerous thing, particularly when one is not afraid of it. The more a man desires the Dark, the more thoroughly it fills him, until it has eaten away all that he is, leaving him no more than a shell through which the Dark can work destruction. Even the gods are not immune, as you'll recall from what I taught you of our order's history. And you, John-" Sydney met his eyes, deadly serious, and lowered his voice. "If you do not respect the Dark - if you forget that fear and long to be filled with its power - you could become a demon. And I would destroy you."</p><p>The look of mild alarm on even Hardin's stoic face told Sydney he had forgotten some of their earliest lessons. Sydney nodded. "Your desire to bring our oppressors to justice is strong, but it must never surpass your fear," he told Hardin, "and yet you must never be overcome by fear, lest the Dark turn on you in your weakness. It is a constant struggle for balance. If I am to teach you what you wish to know, you must always remember this. Are you willing to take such a risk?"</p><p>Now Hardin hesitated, but only briefly before he nodded. "Yes, I am."</p><p>"Why?"</p><p>Hardin looked taken aback by the question, but it was perhaps the most important question Sydney could ask him. Perhaps recognizing this, he spent some time in thought before answering.</p><p>"Do you remember when you asked me about my dream - if I would rather suffocate slowly in a prison cell or burn in the flames?" he asked, meeting Sydney's eyes, entirely earnest. "I would burn, Sydney. I would much rather burn."</p><p>Of course Sydney remembered the dream. Yet... it seemed as if he and Hardin had interpreted the question it raised in entirely different ways.</p><p>Perhaps he had been wrong. Or perhaps, in a way, they had both been right.</p><p>"I know that I can't set the world aright on my own," Hardin continued, "for I am only one man, and not a powerful one. But perhaps... perhaps if only I can help you to do what must be done..."</p><p>"Or you could leave," Sydney observed, "and live a peaceful life."</p><p>Hardin shook his head. "Could I? Where would I go? What would I do? I am a wanted man."</p><p>More so recently, Sydney thought with dry amusement. "Few that have seen your recent deeds have lived to take a description to their superiors," he pointed out. "As for your former crimes, those were not so great that they would keep searching, or ever suspect you if you were to so much as take a different name."</p><p>"And what purpose would it serve to do so? I might become a mercenary, or a bodyguard, but why would I? With my brother gone, I have no need for money to buy any but the most necessary things - food, clothing. You have provided me with both, and I would earn my hire from you, who has need of a <em>loyal</em> swordsman, rather than those whose doings I would know and care little about."</p><p>A 'loyal' swordsman... His words may have sounded pragmatic, but that loyalty - or what he was now calling loyalty in the absence of a different word - was driving Hardin now, as much or possibly more than the desperate need for some hope and purpose for his life. Sydney frowned. "Hardin... your heart cries for something more than justice or vengeance. This choice you would make is an act of passion in more than one way. Which passion is it that moves you to speak thus?"</p><p>Hardin paused, again caught off guard. "I can't be sure. Regardless, it is my choice, is it not?"</p><p>"It is," Sydney acknowledged. Or at least, it should have been. It certainly wasn't <em>his</em>; their confrontation earlier had proven that much. "But if it was someone other than myself who stood before you now," he put forth, "if it was anyone else living... would you still take this burden of the Dark upon yourself?"</p><p>This time Hardin didn't hesitate at all before nodding. "Yes, I would. I have faith in your power, in addition to my faith in your character."</p><p><em>Faith in his character</em> was a strange way to phrase what Hardin actually meant, Sydney thought, though at least Hardin was already obedient - he had not tried to say it in so many words again. "And if I never should return these sentiments of yours?" It seemed an absurd thing to suggest, after what had become of his attempt to send Hardin away, but he had to be certain of Hardin's motivations. </p><p>It was not so unreasonable, apparently, that Hardin didn't falter at the suggestion. But after a moment of being taken aback, he once again nodded. "I've nothing to return to now - even if my family still lived, I have come too far from the life I knew to ever go back. My bridges are all burned, and I have nothing. There is nothing in this world for me aside from what you have given," he said, looking to Sydney earnestly. "Even had nothing more passed between us than the meals and campfires we've shared, that fact would still hold true."</p><p>Sydney had no need to read Hardin's heart; he spoke it openly now, with conviction, and Sydney could not make believe he was mistaken or confused. "You speak truly," he murmured. </p><p>So this was how it had to be, whether by Hardin's choice, or the fate laid out before them. "Kneel, then," he told Hardin. At Hardin's questioning look, he raised an eyebrow. "Surely you do not think that power in the Dark will be granted without an oath, do you, Hardin? Or are there any among the brethren who were not made aware from the very first that there can be no turning back from this path we tread? The oath will be yours to decide, for I would ask nothing of a man that he does not offer freely."</p><p>Hardin obeyed, going down on one knee before him, looking back up to him seriously. Under ordinary circumstances, this would have been part of a ritual, taking place in Leá Monde as he was baptized into the Dark. That was of course not necessary in Hardin's case, and although there was so little formality here in the forest by comparison, the gods were everywhere. Sydney could feel their closeness, the great but blessed weight of his role as their high priest, as he gazed down at Hardin. "What oath will you offer?" he asked softly. "What do you pledge - your assistance? Your allegiance? Your life itself? And who do you pledge it to?"</p><p>Hardin's head bowed, and Sydney waited silently. He did not require an immediate answer. Hardin had not prepared for this in advance, and if he wanted to think it over, that would be acceptable. The gods would still be waiting whenever Hardin was certain, and so would their high priest.</p><p>It was almost a surprise, and yet not at all, when Hardin spoke. "You have given me my life and my freedom," he murmured. "I choose now to return these gifts to you. Every drop of blood in my body shall bear your name; should it spill out, it shall be a witness before the gods and the world that I belong to you. This I swear."</p><p>It was fortunate that Hardin's head was bowed, that he could not see the look on Sydney's face at his words. ...He could not know. Just as moments ago, the mention of rabbits... There was no way Hardin could possibly have known - aside, perhaps, from some divine inspiration. The nearness of the gods to one they had called, speaking words he thought were only his own, that he did not fully understand the significance of...</p><p>But whether the specific wording came from Hardin himself, or the gods, or the gods speaking through Hardin, it was the oath he offered. And when Sydney gently reached forth, placing a hand atop his head lightly before coaxing him to look upward again, Hardin's heart and the hopeful expression in his eyes said plainly that he meant every fervent word. It might have been the most terrible and beautiful thing any other mortal had ever said to him, and Sydney did not want to accept it... but he must, for it had been offered truly and freely before the gods. "...So be it," Sydney murmured, his hand still resting upon Hardin's cheek. </p><p>That should have ended it, as Hardin had already been touched by the Dark - but then, it was also a beginning of sorts, the true beginning of what the gods had in store for him. And in a sense, a beginning for the two of them, for the oath Hardin had spoken had less to do with his service to the gods than with one who served them. Whatever the gods had planned for Hardin, Sydney must be at his side, directing his service. There could be no further denial, no further attempts to keep his distance.</p><p>Sydney could offer Hardin no oath, nor any promises, as his highest allegiance was already spoken for. Even so, he felt moved to kneel as well, to reach out to take Hardin's face between his palms, offering a kiss that he hoped imparted at least a fraction of the tenderness he felt for Hardin, and none of the grief.</p><p>When it passed and he had opened his eyes, again they met Hardin's, still gazing at him with that earnest wonder. Under that gaze, it did not take long before his eyes closed again and he leaned in once more.</p><p>Always before when they had kissed, one or both of them had been frustrated, hurting, desperate. For the first time, it was only a kiss, and Hardin kissed him exactly the way Sydney might have expected Hardin would kiss him, gentle and honest, intuitively discerning just what Sydney wanted - but with a fierce hunger barely concealed behind it, hints of tongue and teeth. It was tempting, especially with the blankets he had loaned to Hardin close at hand, to tease it out, to see if that aspect of Hardin's inner fire was as ferocious as when it had broken through in other ways... But at the moment he was content to enjoy the simple sweetness of Hardin's lips against his, Hardin's hand sifting through his hair and caressing the back of his neck. He thought he might have gladly stayed that way till dawn.</p><p>But dawn was some ways off yet, and Sydney had to acknowledge that this was self-indulgent.  With Hardin's oath, he was one of them, and there was so much Sydney had to teach him... And then there was his own heart to sort out, he thought as he drew back again. This time he reluctantly lowered his hands, breaking their eye contact as he began to get to his feet. ...He didn't know what he could say, or what he should say, so he decided on something inconsequential. "There are provisions back at the camp, if you care for a bite. Leftover bread and soup is not quite a feast to welcome our newest brother into the fold, but more palatable than foraged roots and berries, no doubt."</p><p>"Yes," Hardin agreed, still on his knees and looking somewhat dazed. "I'll be along in a moment."</p><p>Sydney could hardly blame him. Rather a lot had just taken place for both of them to process. ...Possibly more for himself than Hardin, who had no knowledge of what he'd just gotten himself into.</p><p>He was already heading up the rise back to their camp, and at that thought, he hesitated. "...Forgive me," he murmured.</p><p>Somehow, Hardin apparently heard him. "I don't mind," he called after Sydney quietly.</p><p>Sydney paused a moment longer, then continued the climb. On second thought, he decided not to go back to the camp just yet - he needed some time alone with the gods he allegedly served. Hardin was not the only one to whom he owed an apology.</p><p>-----</p><p>
  <i>Hallowed Ones... forgive me. I know that not much time remains, as You measure it, and there was likely little time to find another. I... I fear, from the oath he gave, that I may have disrupted Your divine plans with my own selfishness, if it is even possible for a man such as I to do so.</i>
</p><p>Sydney's prayers were to the gods, of course. To those who watched over the world they had created, each doing their own part to keep harmony and balance, with the help of Sydney and many others like him in generations past, bridging the gap between the planes upon which they existed.</p><p>Sydney had said it himself, that at times the gods answered prayers by merely passing them along to a willing soul. Or perhaps, she thought with amusement, it was because of the place she occupied, neither physical nor divine, but somewhere between - perhaps someone who occupied such a place had not been <em>gifted</em> the prayers of one who served the gods in her name, but had... intercepted them.</p><p>
  <i>Tell me what must be done, and I shall do it.</i>
</p><p>Having apologized, he sought penance. Ah, but he did not realize how small his perceived "sin" was in the gods' eyes... They were one and the same - he had been paying for his transgression by transgressing. At times she could forget that this soul, so like her own but for returning to service in the world time and time again, had needed to start over each time, and did not understand.</p><p>In fact, how ironic it was that the soul now known as John Hardin seemed to understand more than the one now known as Sydney Losstarot, she mused. And while she would go to Sydney now, to assure him that the gods were not angry with him? Far better to let John Hardin teach him why, for his soul was much better situated for such lessons than hers, speaking in a language they both knew, housed in a vessel of flesh and blood... which was a language in and of itself which she could hardly recall.</p><p>Within the place she occupied in the universe, absent time and space and reason, she pondered with both amusement and sadness the answers she might give when she went to him. What must Sydney do?</p><p>It was not his way to let himself be smothered, and the gods had seen that he need not burn. He was not as she, eternally caught up in the golden flickering and the embers. Although he had a divine mission, he was a man, and what he must do, regarding Hardin... was to remember that he was a man. That at this moment and for the foreseeable future, he lived.</p><p>Yes, that was all. Perhaps he would not understand what she meant at once, but he would learn. And much as with other, more mundane lessons he had experienced throughout this life - the reading, the music, the magic - his soul would doubtless find pleasure not only in the eventual mastery, but in the learning.</p><p>She smiled, stood and stretched amidst the chiming of her adornments, and reached out.</p>
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